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ladymercysletters · 4 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet - Aemond Targaryen

A/N: very NSFW, obviously 18 + only. Me being horny on main for a full 8 A4 standard issue pages. I've written essays shorter than this. Honestly, you could probably take most of these as individual blurbs in themselves. Feel free to request fics based on any of the ideas floating about in this filth.

Word count: 4,006

High Valyarian Transation

“kostilus … ñuha jorraelza, ñuha mēre … kostōba vala” - Please… my one, my love… strong man

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You might expect him to be cold and uncaring. Especially if your marriage had been arranged by your families. He would of course do his duty by you, but no more. Except it didn’t take him long at all to realise that you weren’t a duty; you were his – and his to take care of and love. After sex of any kind, or even a passionate kiss more than once, he would sink into your space and surround you with softness, lowly checking if you were well and if there was anything he could get for you.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Since losing his eye Aemond has carved his own body into a weapon. Each muscle was built for a particular role and allowed him to defend himself and attack his enemy successfully every time. If he had to choose a favourite body part of his it would probably be his arms. His swordsmanship is something he is something he is very modest about, though he would play it off as being obvious that he had skill but would never gloat about it. He is particularly proud of how he can manoeuvre a blade over his shoulder, twirling the heavy sheet of steel effortlessly to reign down on his opponent’s throat. He decided for definite that he would always train with a sword when he caught you watching his training one afternoon with Cole; he kept a close eye on you as yours never left his body as it moved. He watched as your chest rose and fell with each swoop of the blade and clash of metal, and especially when they paused for a break, and your eyes practically melted the clothes from his body where he stood.

Aemond would never tell you he preferred one part of your body to another. Though when you hide your smile with your hand he is always there to delicately pull it away. He once told you to never hide your smile from him; and whilst he had made it sound vaguely threatening at the time, he never actually told you it was because seeing your perfect lips widen into a brilliant smile made his heart practically leap from his chest with love for you. If he had to pick something tactile, Aemond would also say he loved how smooth and soft your skin was. A complete contrast to everything else around him, Aemond’s favourite part of the day was the end – when he would join you in your shared quarters, chambers, bed, and he could hold your soft form in his arms on your soft bed and you spoke about your respective days.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

At first Aemond would always cum inside you, one way or another. He wasn’t a huge fan of the mess, and neither of you being that experienced he quite naturally presumed as with everything, its best to be tidy. As you grew to know each other and explore what brought each other pleasure quite openly Aemond discovered he loved to see you covered in his cum. It first started when he had slipped out of you as he came, cumming across your open legs. For a short while he stared openly as the white pearlescent mess between your thighs before slowly spreading it further over you, moving his cum up and through the lips of your pussy to stimulate your clit. He was mesmerised with how you looked covered in him, marked as his. He went absolutely feral the first time you pulled off as you were sucking his cock, stroking him and giving small licks to the head of his cock as he lost control - cumming over your mouth before you pulled away to let him finish on your open blouse. When the hot flush had ebbed from his face he lolled his neck to look down at you. Seeing the mess he’d left on your face and his seed slipping down between your breasts and turning your shift translucent made his cock twitch in want.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Aemond would never reveal an ounce of your relationship or intimacies to anyone, not event the sept, but of course there were things that gave him more pleasure than he would grant voice to. More than once, he had thought about his love of it and cursed himself under his breath. He was a cunt-drunk fool. He could deny it all he liked but if the world fell apart tomorrow, he would not notice if he was buried between your thighs. The soft moans he could pull from you when your thighs quivered around his head, or the howling screams of pleasure and the gush of your completion that drove him to ecstasy himself more than once, when you rode his face. He would die your valiant steed if that was what you wanted. The way you would use him, his nose to rub against your bud and his tongue licked through your quivering folds, hands snaking round your thighs to suffocate him more. His hips would cant up, humping the air or the very breath you let out he did not know. But he would make himself a boy once more and spill untouched as you took your pleasure from him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you wed Aemond was not experienced at all. He doesn’t think of what happened to him years ago as any kind of experience. Surely that wasn’t what his duty was, to lay with you would be different – and if it wasn’t maybe you could both carry on without it. But your first night together was different. He knew a lady should not be as experienced as the women in the streets but he was enamoured at your shy touches and looks as he held himself above you. As you explored your pleasure together Aemond found someone he could be truly vulnerable with, who would not mock or push him into doing something he did not wish to. Instead your shaking hands explored his firm lithe muscles, drawing soft fingertips down his back that made his hips jolt involuntarily into you.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Anywhere he can see your face. He’d take you in any position you asked him, or any that fit in the moment, but he’d never deny the most pleasure he gets is when he can see your face when you’re intimate. Missionary, when you’re lying in bed together in the evening – he can move you into whatever shape he wanted but he usually settles for hooking your leg over his hip, getting a better angle to thrust deeper into you. As much as he loves to control you movements and protect you he cannot deny the first morning you rolled him over and mounted him he prayed the gods would take him then and there so he could die in true bliss. Smoothing his hands over your curves as you lifted your linen shift over your head and rolled you hips – Aemonds breath was taken away from him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unsurprisingly he’s not goofy at all. Aemonds emotions have never come out of him in joyful giggles; the only emotion he’d ever let himself express fully before is anger. The most he has ever expressed in humour or light heartedness is when he first heard you whispering in broken High Valyrian to him as he had you against the door of the library. Your soft sighs of “kostilus … ñuha jorraelza, ñuha mēre … kostōba vala” made him beam with happiness against your neck, warmth and a tightness constricting his heart as he realised you had been practicing just for him. He showed his joy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His fine pale hairs that lightly trail down the lower half of his body, though they get slightly courser the closer to his cock and balls they get, barely mark any sort of maintenance – so he doesn’t really bother.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Aemond is far more romantic than anyone gives him credit for. Upon your marriage day, though both of you had barely spoken previously, he took your hand in his whilst you sat beside each other. Under the table where no one else could see and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. On your wedding bed he covered your body with his own. Though there was no bedding ceremony, at Aemonds fiery insistence, he protected your modesty from the empty room with his bare back, your lower halves covered by a thin linen sheet as he settled himself between your legs. His hands often give away his softness towards you. Reaching out for you or lacing your fingers together as you lay with one another.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Aemond doesn’t really like using his fist. He’d much rather have you. When he’s away from you for any extended period he does, with grumbling regert, find that he’s more often than not stiff in the moring. A drawback to you awakening something within him and haunting his dreams whilst he is away. He groans in defeat as his hand trails down his abdomen. Stroking down his shaft before gripping it firmly. He’ll massage himself slowly, imagining you’re with him, doing it for him. Squeezing his balls in his other hand, he can make himself cum to the thought of your body, splayed out on your soft bed for him, calling to the gods only for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He much prefers to be dominant when with you. Mostly because it gives him control over himself but when you fully submit to him he can’t deny it thrills him the most. It first happened one evening, he’d been training all day and had some small cuts and grazes to him. The soothing bath the servants had prepared was doing much to ease the tension in his muscles but the way you tended to him distracted him from true relaxation. You had dismissed the maids, insistent you could tend to your husband yourself, and watching you looking almost like a maid yourself, the steaming water curling strands of your hair that fell from your face. When he was settled in bed you tended to him further, not listening as he told you he’d rather you lay with him to rest – only yielding when he grabbed at your waist, curling his arm around you and pulling you back to bed. As much as you fought in protest at injuring him further Aemond overpowered you. Hiking your skirts up and pushing himself inside you before you could utter another word of rest. Your pretty moans spilled from you as he took you helplessly, loving how your arms relaxed in his grasp and you legs spread further at his intrusion. Yes, Aemond loved to take you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom or chambers are his favourite. He has the freedom to take you wherever and however you please without anyone disturbing you unannounced. He loves the intimacy and comfort of your bed, being able to move into any sort of position you want with ease. Though the balcony at sunrise was one of his most favourite memories. In the quiet of the morning light, with your balcony facing the countryside, open plains the spread towards Hayford and Roseby. Aemond remembers how the light touched your skin as he rolled your shift off your shoulders, pressing reverent kisses to your warm exposed skin as his other hand trailed up your thigh and between your legs.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. We’ve already gone over how Aemond had never thought of marriage as anything other than duty before you; and how your affection and love grew for one another after no more than mere months. His main motivation in wanting you at any time is that you understand him, you love him and he loves you. Of course this he can control day to day; but when your dress is a little more revealing than usual – exposing your neck to him and giving him a better view of your curves as you walk his eye drifts. When your hair is down in soft waves over your shoulders and back Aemond thinks of how it splays so nicely over your sheets, surrounding you like a halo as he treats you like his queen.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would walk over hot coals if you asked him, but he hates the thought of every making you not feel good, or doing something that hurt or made you feel uncomfortable. He also hates the idea of being cornered and pushed into a situation he didn’t want. If you were to back him up into a corner and press yourself against him he would have no complaints what so ever; but if you were to do something he’s never done before without even speaking about it first he would go into an absolute panic and retreat back to the small boy he was the first time it happened.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As we’ve discovered Aemond could die a happy man between your thighs, so he of course prefers giving. But receiving is still one of the pleasures of the flesh he was most surprised to find himself enjoying. His shoulders would untense as you took him into your hot mouth. The feel of your small tongue licking the underside of his large cock and his view of you taking more and more of him into your throat had the meat of this thighs straining. Kisses, he didn’t know kisses could feel so good going down his cock, his breath hitching as you swallowed one, the both of his testicles into your mouth, tongue rolling over and playing with them – laving them before trailing up to the throbbing tip of his cock once more. Seeing you suck so deliriously on his head tasting his seed in your mouth and watching it fall from your face, making a mess of his bride was something that broke the last restraint holding him back from bringing you the utmost pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He has had you every which way – often depending on the circumstances. And he likes both for different reasons. The thrill of taking you wildly where at any moment you may be discovered, or slowly and passionately pulling only the best of sounds from your throat through the entire night… he couldn’t pick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

When the mood strikes Aemond loves to take you in a hurry. Knowing he can have you and make you cum quickly leaves him feeling triumphant, the thought that you were a perfectly serene lady only moments ago – he can leave you a wanton, moaning mess; hair falling down and blouse open. Thighs sticky with your combined mess as he fixes himself only a little to leave when called upon. The image of you holding yourself up against a wall burned into his eye for the rest of the day, all through council meetings and bartering talks with his brother; all he could think of was getting back to your rooms this eve.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As a rule, Aemond would never want to expose you to any sort of risk. He was almost insistent that you would not be intimate anywhere other than your bedrooms; especially when goaded by his brother that surely he would take you everywhere within and outside of the castle walls now that he would finally get his end away. For the first few months of your marriage he maintained his composure, treating you with only the utmost respect as demanded by your marriage and status. But as you grew to know one another, and Aemond’s passion for you warmed as well as his regard for you as a confidant his will slowly slipped. It started with a passionate kiss in the darkened corridors of the keep, on the way back from a feast when you just couldn’t wait for one another. From there it progressed to more frequent instances where Aemond or yourself, would pull each other away from a task or a group, into s quiet corner where no one would notice your intimate embraces – Aemond laying soft kisses up your collarbone or along the back of your neckline. Of course once he gets a taste for the thrill of your love outside of the bedroom he gets all sorts of ideas. The library for one.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is ridiculous. Once he worked out that sex is essentially a form of exercise, he almost starts treating it lie a challenge. How many times can he go, how much can he make you come before you’re begging him to stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t want to use toys on you – or at least hasn’t discovered the pleasure of them yet. Your marriage is still young and he wishes to know your body fully with his own, wanting to pull as many beautiful sounds and finishes from you as possible.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t enjoy teasing himself; he can just about bear when he sees you in the hall wearing one of his favourite dresses – the colour complimenting your tone and the cut of the bodice just slightly lower than normal, allowing him a view of the curve of your breast. Teasing isn’t something Aemond specifically seeks out in you, but when he realises that he has you on a precipice; and he sees the flush in your cheeks, quickness of breath, and the glazed look in your eyes he thinks he may just try and keep you that way for as long as possible – slowly drawing a firm thumb over your clit as he stills his cock inside you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not loud. Obviously – but he does groan softly. First when you kiss him, touch him, and spark his senses. He can smell your hair, taste the small amount of salt on your skin, feel your pulse under his lips as he trails them down your neck. When your hands wonder down to his cock he groans again, and once more when he first takes you. As the pace increases his breath will come out heavier, low rumbles that could be mistaken for thunder if your mind was elsewhere, growing into harsh pants as his hands grip onto you and passion overtakes him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he finally got you pregnant with your first child he was terrified. He, like you, thought that when you conceived it would make him more deliriously happy than he had ever been, but a sense of dread almost immediately overcame him when he thought about how he was going to protect you as you grew his child in your belly. He retreated so fast you thought you had done something for him to hate you, or that the sight of your changing body had disgusted him. You were a sobbing mess for a week, causing the maesters to worry for your condition and the stress on the baby. It was only when one of your most loyal handmaidens searched out the Prince herself and explained your state, did he run as fast as he could to you. Barrelling passed the double guard he’d had at your doors since you announced to find you curled up in bed, face pressed into one of the last shirts he had worn to bed with you that still held some semblance of his scent. The noise sent you bolt upright, blinking back tears as you stared into the eye of your husband. His nostrils flaring as he berated himself internally for your current state. He slowly made his way towards you, kneeling on the bed gently as though you’d fly away if he moved faster, he surrounded you, taking you into his arms and holding you to his chest. The sobs you let out as you curled around him almost broke his heart in two, his eye welling up. After he explained why he had distanced himself from you he vowed to himself never to let you too far from him again – even if he thought it for the best it was not.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Oh we know.

The first time you were intimate with him on your wedding night you barely saw his cock; he was between your legs and covering you almost as soon as he had stripped himself of his clothes. Your first time close and intimate, which you were grateful for as you were shy yourself. Slowly though, as you lay together more, you discovered how truly beautiful he was all over. Your mother had, on the one occasion she discussed what married women are for, told you of what men had between their legs. She didn’t seem all that impressed herself and described it more like an overripe fruit that what his looked like. It was almost pretty, just like the rest of him. Flushed from the tip, a rosy pink colour much like the roses that grew in the gardens – you thought. Pale skin was un-marred and surrounded by fine silvery hairs. Even when soft, as you’d seen many times when he’d risen from a bath or laying together in the morning he was perfect.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Initially Aemond had trained his sex drive to be nearly non-existent. But after three moons had passed Aemond could not imagine not having you nearly every night. He could control himself well when in public, but if you found yourselves in a darkened corridor on the way back from a fest he could quite easily push you into a corner and have you right there; and then again when you did finally make it back to your rooms, tearing the stiff dress from your shoulders and kissing every inch of skin bared to him. He could be a very jealous man if you danced with the wrong lord.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your first night together, he didn’t want to go to sleep. You both lay next to one another, basking in each other’s eyes as you rolled to face each other. You were the first one to close your eyes, slipping closed with a small smile on your face as Aemond brushed a curl from your forehead. He curled an arm over your head, bringing you closer to his chest. He wanted to stay awake longer, wanted to watch your serene features as you slept. But exhaustion caught up to the exhilaration of the evenings activities. Aemonds eyes fluttered shut only five or so minutes after yours. Long lashes splaying across his high cheekbones and an uncharacteristically easy sigh leaving his throat.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #my writing #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 2 months ago

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Warnings: Mature Themes,Explicit Content Sexual Content,Strong Language,Intense Sexual Content, Emotional Intensity,Sensitive Topics (About marriage)

P.S I wanted to tell you this story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any real-life events or individuals. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Craving the Forbidden

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum cleaner filled the mansion, steady and soothing as I moved through the sprawling halls. This place was a fortress of luxury—high ceilings, dark wood, and towering windows that framed views of an endless horizon. It felt like a castle, but it was so quiet it might as well have been a mausoleum.

I’d been working here for two years, long enough to know every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that shifted with the setting sun. Long enough to know the man who lived here, too.

James Hetfield.

He wasn’t just my employer; he was a rock god. Frontman of Metallica, a legend whose name carried more weight than I could fathom. And yet, he was also something else. Something infinitely more complicated.

James Hetfield wasn’t supposed to be kind. Or thoughtful. Or so... human. But he was. And that’s what made working here harder than it should’ve been.

I dusted the shelves in the library, my hands steady even though my thoughts weren’t. I had no right to think about him the way I did. He was married. Famous. Completely out of reach.

And yet, I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened every time I saw him.

The front door clicked open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. My breath caught. I wasn’t expecting him.

“Y/n?” His deep, gravelly voice echoed down the hall.

I straightened, smoothing my apron before stepping out into the foyer. He stood there, guitar case slung over one shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his tousled hair. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in—effortless, magnetic, dangerous.

“James,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

“Change of plans,” he said, setting the guitar down by the door. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thought I’d work from home for a bit.”

I nodded, clutching my cleaning supplies tightly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You never do.” The words were soft, but they carried an undercurrent that made my pulse quicken.

I ducked my head and hurried back to the kitchen, my cheeks burning. The hours crawled by as I moved through the house, each room feeling smaller and more suffocating with him here. His presence was impossible to ignore—the faint sound of his guitar drifting from the living room, the occasional creak of floorboards as he moved upstairs.

By the time I reached his office, my nerves were frayed. This was the one room I avoided whenever I could. It felt too personal. The walls were lined with gold records, guitars propped in every corner, and framed photos that told the story of his life. Photos of his band, his kids, his wife.

Those pictures always made my chest ache.

I pushed open the door, steeling myself as I set down the bucket of supplies. My hands trembled slightly as I dusted the bookshelves, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

His voice startled me, and I turned sharply to see him standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, but his expression was anything but casual.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes locked on mine, filled with something raw, something that made it impossible to breathe.

“I was just finishing up,” I said quickly, moving to grab my supplies. “I’ll leave—” “Y/n,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Stay. Please.”I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “Why?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his confidence faltering. “Because I need to tell you something.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick and charged. I leaned against the desk, gripping the edge for support. “What is it?”

James sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his words was too much to carry. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

My breath hitched, my grip tightening on the desk. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze steady despite the crack in his voice. “But it’s the truth. And I think you feel it too.”

Tears burned in my eyes as I shook my head. “James, you’re married. This isn’t right.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “My marriage has been broken for years, Y/n. We’re just holding on for the kids, for the image, for everything except love.”

“That doesn’t make this okay,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“I know it doesn’t,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve felt for a long time.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, breaking down every defense I’d built over the past two years. I stared at him, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop feeling this way,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

James closed the distance between us, his hand brushing against mine. The touch was soft, tentative, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

I looked up at him, my resolve crumbling as his fingers gently traced the back of my hand. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I leaned into him. His arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me against his chest.

The space between us disappeared entirely, his body pressing against mine as we sank deeper into the couch. His hands, steady and deliberate, slid over my waist and up my back, drawing me closer. Each touch sent a shiver racing through me, my skin coming alive beneath his fingertips.

His lips never left mine for long, returning again and again with an urgency that grew with every passing second. When he pulled back to catch his breath, his forehead rested against mine, his lips brushing lightly over my cheek, my jaw.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, a plea more than a word.

I tilted my head, granting him the space to let his lips trail down the line of my neck. The heat of his breath, the faint scrape of his stubble, made my heart race wildly. My hands clung to him, finding the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt.

He kissed me again, this time deeper, with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid up my side, skimming over my ribs before settling at the small of my back, anchoring me to him as his lips moved against mine. Every part of me burned, the room around us disappearing into the haze of shared heat and need.

The soft sound of my name on his lips made my chest tighten. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if that could make the moment last forever. His touch became more insistent, his hands exploring, his lips speaking a language I understood in the way they pressed, tasted, lingered.

The space between us vanished entirely as he closed the distance, his body pressing me back against the solid edge of the desk. His hands, rough and warm, skimmed my waist before gripping it firmly, pulling me flush against him. His lips claimed mine with a hunger I hadn’t felt before—raw and all-consuming.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against mine. His fingers traced my jaw, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to rip these clothes off of you... to see you, all of you naked”

The words sent a shiver through me, and before I could respond, he took my hand, pulling me toward the bookshelf. My back hit the sturdy wooden frame, the books rattling softly as his body caged mine. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding down my arms before settling on the buttons of my blouse.

His eyes locked on mine as he began to undo them one by one, his breath warm against my cheek. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I have to fight myself not to do this.”

I couldn’t speak, my voice caught in my throat as his hands moved lower, pushing the fabric off my shoulders. His fingers brushed my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. My heart pounded, the air between us thick and electric.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine,” he said, his voice soft but strained, his gaze taking me in like I was a masterpiece he’d waited years to touch.

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as his lips found mine again, fiercer this time. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips left mine to trail along my neck, down to my collarbone. Each kiss sent a spark racing through me, leaving me breathless and clinging to him.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice raw against my skin. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been losing sleep over this.”

“You’re not,” I admitted, my voice trembling but steady with truth. “I’ve wanted this, James. I’ve wanted you.”

His lips found mine again, hungrier now, as his hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of him seeped into me, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable. He pushed the blouse from my shoulders completely, the fabric fluttering to the floor without a second thought.

His hands slid down to my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my skirt. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck, “it drives me insane.”

I gasped as he lifted me slightly, turning us so I was pressed back against the bookshelf. The cool wood against my skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his hands, which worked to slide my skirt down my hips, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing the newly exposed skin with a reverence that made my knees weak.

He leaned back, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he took me in. “Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself.

I reached for him then, my hands trembling but eager as I tugged at his shirt. He didn’t resist, letting me pull it over his head. My fingers traced the lines of his chest, the muscles beneath taut and warm under my touch. He watched me, his breathing uneven, as if my touch alone unraveled him.

When he leaned in again, his hands found the clasp of my bra, pausing just long enough for his gaze to meet mine. “Okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak.

James took a deep breath, his eyes dark and filled with a mix of desire and reverence as he pulled back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, the motion deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. Slowly, he undid the button and the zipper, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, as if he was trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He slipped his jeans down, revealing the taut muscles of his legs, his body every bit as imposing as it was graceful. I watched him, the heat between us growing stronger, more palpable with each passing second. He stood before me, bare-chested, seeming like a Greek god, looking with a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was beautiful in a way I never could have imagined, and now that the layers between us were slowly falling away, it felt like everything was shifting, like we were moving toward something neither of us could stop.

He stepped closer, his hands running over his own chest, and I reached out, my fingers tracing the lines of his abs, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down my spine. Then I moved closer to his boxer, lowering it a bit to make his cock slliping out.

“I want to make you feel good,” I whispered, my voice soft, but full of intent. I meant it, more than anything else. I took his cock erected and started stroking it gently, yet quick.

His reaction was immediate. A low moan escaped his lips, the sound soft but filled with desire. I felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound, knowing that I was the one making him feel this way. His body tensed beneath my touch, every muscle drawn tight with need.

The sound of his moan—deep and unrestrained—only made me more determined to keep going, to show him just how much I wanted to give. I moved slowly, my fingers working with precision, matching the rhythm of his breathing. I could feel him reacting to each subtle movement, his body leaning into me as if urging me on.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me, his lips urgent, but still gentle. I could taste the desperation in his kiss, the unspoken longing he didn’t have to say aloud. But his moan told me everything I needed to know. It made my chest tighten, a flutter of heat spreading through me at how badly he wanted this, wanted me.

With every stroke, I could feel him getting closer, his body trembling beneath my touch. He leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my hips as if trying to steady himself. His breathing grew more shallow, the moans escaping him louder, more desperate now.

“You feel so good,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough with need. “So good, Y/n.” His breath was quick and uneven, each word heavier than the last, his eyes dark with desire.

I could feel the way my own body responded to him, the fluttering in my stomach, the warmth spreading between my legs. I wanted to keep making him feel this way—wanted to see him undone by my touch. The moan that escaped his lips only encouraged me to continue, the sound echoing in my mind, and I matched the rhythm he set with my own, feeling a heat surge through me with every movement.

There was only this moment, only the connection between us—deep, raw, and undeniable. I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and frantic all at once. The way he moaned, his breath hitching with every motion, made me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

I leaned into him, kissing him deeply, taking my time with the kiss as I felt the tension in his body grow. Every touch, every breath between us felt like it was drawing us closer, making the world outside disappear.

I kept my pace slow, letting the anticipation build, knowing how much he needed this, how much he needed me to be there with him. I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, the way his body reacted to each gentle stroke.

And then, with a shuddering breath, he moaned again, his entire body jerking slightly as he let go, his chest heaving as he finally released, the tension in him breaking. He collapsed into me, his hands gripping my shoulders for support as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so close...”

I held him close, my hands gently stroking him as I let him come down from the wave of pleasure. His breath was ragged, and I kissed him softly, as he came.

My body was still humming from the intense connection we'd just shared, and James, standing so close to me, his chest rising and falling with each breath, was no different. His hands remained on my body, and his gaze—those deep, smoldering eyes—told me everything I needed to know.

His lips brushed lightly against mine once more, a kiss that was soft, lingering, and filled with unspoken emotion. His mouth parted against mine, just a breath away. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with desire. “You’re so much more than I imagined.”

I smiled at the sincerity in his voice, a warmth spreading through my chest. But even as he spoke, I could feel the tension building in the air again. He was looking at me like he couldn’t wait for the next moment to begin.

And I felt the same.

His fingers traced a slow path down my arm, igniting a trail of fire on my skin as he moved closer, his body aligning with mine. The gentle pressure of his chest against mine sent waves of sensation crashing through me, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. His touch was electric, sparking something deeper, something raw between us that I couldn't quite name.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, his voice deep and thick, laced with a promise. His lips brushed against my neck as he pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me completely. The subtle movements of his hands were deliberate, slow—his fingertips grazing over my skin like he was savoring the moment, like he never wanted it to end.

I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling of him, of his presence filling every space between us. His lips trailed soft, heated kisses along my neck, then dipped lower, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My pulse raced, every inch of me aching with desire for more.

Without warning, he moved—his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, my hands slipping into his hair, feeling the weight of his body against mine as he turned us toward the bookshelf. The cool wood met my back with a soft thud, but I didn’t feel the coldness; I felt only the heat of him, pressing into me, his lips returning to mine in a deep, consuming kiss.

James held me against the bookshelf. His grip on me was firm, but there was a tenderness in the way he held me, as if he were afraid to break something delicate. But there was nothing delicate about this—nothing about the fire burning between us was fragile. It was raw, powerful, and undeniable.

I gasped softly as his lips found my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You’ve made me feel amazing, but now I want to make you feel everything.”

His hands trailed down my body, gently pushing me back against the bookshelf as he moved in closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine. The pressure of him, the heat radiating from his skin—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

You’re perfect,” he whispered, the words rough with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he said my name like a prayer. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I responded instinctively, my body moving closer to his. I could feel his cock rubbing in my clit.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue brushing against mine with a slow, intoxicating rhythm. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped from me, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

He deepened the kiss, sending shivers through my spine, and I felt a spark of heat ignite within me. His kiss was fire, melting away every ounce of hesitation, leaving only raw need and yearning. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so alive, so completely attuned to another person.

He broke the kiss, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away. “Are you sure, Y/n?” His voice was a whisper, but there was a hardness to it now, a hint of desperation. “I don’t want to push you… but I need you.”

I swallowed, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I could find the words, but I didn’t need to. My body was speaking for me, my hands reaching down to pull him closer, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body against mine. Every inch of me wanted him, craved him, and I could no longer pretend otherwise.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we were about to share. “I want this. I want you.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed me more firmly against the bookshelf. The sudden movement took me by surprise, but the moment our bodies aligned, a shudder of anticipation ran through me. I gasped as his lips found my ear, his breath sending a wave of heat through me.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered against my skin, his voice husky with desire. “Let me show you just how much I’ve wanted this, how much I wanted to fuck you all of you”

The intensity in his voice made me weak in the knees. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood of the bookshelf, and let him guide me, his hands firm but gentle as he positioned me just right. He was so close now that I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips trailing hot kisses down my skin.

I felt the pulse of heat between us grow, every second making my body ache with need. He pressed into me slowly, deeply, and I gasped at the sensation, the feeling of him filling me in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. I didn’t know if I could take it, but I didn’t care. Every inch of me was alive with need, and I moaned softly, feeling him shift his position just slightly to allow for a deeper connection.

“James…” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. The sound of his name on my lips felt like a confession, like a promise of everything that was happening between us.

His name escaped him in a low groan, his hands gripping my hips as he started to move against me, the rhythm slow and deliberate. He was teasing me, pushing me to the edge, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted, how my breath hitched, how my nails dug into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as he kissed the sensitive skin on my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

The pressure between us was building, and every move he made seemed to bring us closer to the edge. His hands moved to my chest, caressing my breasts with a tenderness that made me shiver. He pinched my nipple softly, and I moaned, arching into him, wanting more.

He kissed me again, his lips hungry, desperate. I felt the way he kissed me, not just with passion, but with a deep, aching need, as though he couldn’t get enough of me, couldn’t stop himself. I let myself melt into him, responding to each touch, each kiss, each movement as if my body had a mind of its own.

His rhythm grew more urgent, and with each thrust, I felt myself getting closer to the edge, the tension in my body so tight I thought I might snap. My moans grew louder, more desperate, matching the frantic pace he set, until finally, with one deep, almost desperate thrust, I felt myself breaking apart, my body trembling as I found release.

“J-James, I’m cumming” "I moaned softly, my body trembling from the intensity of his thrusters.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his hands holding me closer as the tension between us reached its peak. “Let me know how much you want this.”

His name spilled from my lips again, a breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge. I felt him tense, his body shuddering against mine as he followed me, his deep groan echoing in my ear. We both froze for a moment, suspended in the aftermath, the air thick with our combined breaths.

We stayed like that, locked in each other's arms, unable to let go of the connection we had created. James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me, his breath coming in soft pants against my ear. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and I rested my head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

As we stood there, our bodies still entwined, the world outside the small office seemed to fade away. The only sounds were our ragged breathing, slowly starting to calm. My chest rose and fell against his, and I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The air between us was heavy, but now it felt different—more peaceful, more grounded.

James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, allowing the quiet to settle over us. We didn’t speak for a long time, and I didn’t mind. It felt good to just be in this moment, to be connected to him in a way I hadn’t ever expected.

Finally, James spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You okay?” he asked, his hand gently stroking my hair, as though making sure I was still with him, still here.

I nodded, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of desire and something softer, something I hadn’t expected to see. “Yeah… more than okay,” I whispered, smiling up at him, my heart still racing in the aftermath of everything that had just happened. But as the excitement ebbed away, a quiet realization began to settle in.

There was still so much we hadn’t said, so much unspoken. The weight of the situation was slowly sinking in. James was married. That fact hadn’t disappeared in the heat of the moment, and now that things were calm, I felt the tug of uncertainty.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “James…” My voice was soft, unsure. “What about your wife? What does this mean?”

He paused, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he considered his words. His brow furrowed slightly, and for the first time since we’d come together, there was a moment of vulnerability in his expression. He took a breath, clearly weighing the truth before responding.

“Things aren’t... what they seem," he said slowly, his voice quieter than before. "It’s complicated, Y/n. I’m not... I’m not happy in my marriage. I haven’t been for a long time.” He swallowed hard, his eyes not leaving mine as if searching for some sign that I understood. “I never meant for this to happen with you, but I can’t deny what I feel. What we’ve shared... it feels real. More real than anything else right now.”

I felt the weight of his words, a mixture of relief and sadness swelling inside me. My heart ached for him, for the situation he found himself in. I wanted to ask more questions, to understand the full depth of what he was going through, but instead, I found myself in his arms, my face pressed against his chest once again, trying to hold onto the feeling of being close to him.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked, my voice a little shaky, but I needed to know. "What do we do now?"

He exhaled deeply, running his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. There was something intense in his eyes, something that told me this wasn’t just a fleeting moment for him.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Y/n,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But I know that right now, I don’t want to let go of this. I don’t want to let go of you.” He looked down at me, his expression full of raw emotion. “If you wanted to stay… I wouldn’t stop you.”

The offer hung in the air between us, and I could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was about something deeper, something more fragile.

“I’m not asking you to leave her,” I said quietly, my heart aching. “But what happens now? What do we do with what we’ve just… what we’ve just done?”

James gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch was tender, almost apologetic, as if he were afraid of the emotions he might be stirring. “I don’t want to complicate things for you, Y/n. But I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean something to me.”

His words lingered in the space between us, and I could feel the shift—the weight of our shared desire, and the vulnerability that came with it. He wasn’t asking me for anything. He wasn’t rushing into anything. But the offer, the possibility, was there, hanging in the quiet.

“I think we need time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. "We both do."

James nodded slowly, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss. “Yeah, time,” he echoed, his hand still holding me close. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not if you don’t want me to.”

I closed my eyes, letting the quiet settle between us, and for a moment, there was no pressure, no confusion—just the two of us, holding onto something fleeting, yet real.

“I don’t want you to go either,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but sincere.

And for a moment, we simply stood there, lost in the warmth of each other’s arms, our hearts beating as one, unsure of what tomorrow would bring, but certain of this—this connection, this moment, was something we both wanted to hold on to.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield one shot #metallica smut #james hetfield x you #james hetfield imagine #james hetfield smut #metalica x you #nausicaamusiclover20

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annoyinglovetyrant · 1 month ago

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Zanthium

Pt. 2

TW: slight descriptions of violence and suicide.

You wonder if he'll be here, you haven't seen him in a few days and a part of you kind of misses the silent shadow, only ever seeing him loyally following behind the king. It's a little weird not having him around. He's also always fun to look at, if you're being honest. Tonight's ceremony is more of a wedding, though their version is much more gorgeous and spiritual compared to the human counterpart, the two to be married are a couple from a lower class, but it's tradition for everyone in the nearby realm to join, nobility and royalty alike. No one on Lind'ar is poor necessarily: food, clothing, and shelter are provided for all citizens, even having a job is not a necessity, those who work mainly do so to pass time and, or to improve the status of their name. The only work that is mandatory is the growing and harvesting of goods, and the care of life around them. A beautiful commune with kind and generous people, a concept the people of Earth should have understood. Enki and Marsant are their names, the two that are to be wed. Marsant is your helper, a servant would be a less tact way of referring to her, a beautiful middle aged woman, with kind eyes and an even kinder heart. Other than the king, she's been the only one to treat you with decency that didn't feel forced. Enki is the dark arts priest, a wise and powerful man, his appearance showing otherwise. He's a smaller, scrawny individual with dark and sunken eyes, handsome in an unconventional way. His expression never showing what he's thinking, other than when looking at his soon to be wife. You can't help but yearn for that same devotion. As you sit amongst the people, you spot him . Kan'dar, Kan, the kings' guard. You've seen him countless times now, yet each time you see him your heart flutters more and more: He's tall, standing at close to 7'0", with shaggy black hair and droopy, pointed ears. Tribal tattoos encircle his arms and hands, up to his chest, and his signature mask rests on the lower portion of his face. His shoulders have shards of bone penetrating through his skin, like perverted halos resting comfortably on his flesh. His nails are long and sharp, a permanent shade of black, resting on strong and able hands, hands you constantly picture around your throat in the dark recesses of the night. No one else here shares those same qualities, at least from what you've seen, but the elvish features he shares along with the others show he's from here. He catches you staring, his senses always on high alert when it comes to you, and you quickly avert your eyes, a slight hue of embarrassment coating your face. Sitting alone on your stump, you swirl the drink you have in your hand around, no one really staying in your company too long,. It never bothered you too much, but at these ceremonies it tends to get to you more than others. You contemplate talking with the strangers you haven't met yet, hoping they don't have the same impression of you as those in the inner realm. Thinking it's futile, you decide that maybe you could try and be near Kan, being in his presence must surely be better than sitting here alone. Steeling your nerves, you head for the mute, repeating your opening line over and over in your head. He's quick to notice your approach, his hands instinctively clenching and unclenching with each step you take, a slight twitch in his eyebrow doesn't go unnoticed by you, and a sense of dread forms in your gut. 'Would it be weird if I turned around now? Fuck. I should have over thought this more, why would I even come over here?' Your mind races as you finally sit next to him, a soft and timid smile on your face. He studies you for a moment, a storm swirling behind his dark eyes, then, faintly, he nods at you, somewhat silencing your racing thoughts.

"It's pretty, don't you think?"

He nods again, this time avoiding looking in your direction. You see him and the king exchange a glace to one another, a silent conversation going on in the short moment their eyes lock, you're sure it's about you. You and him sit together in silence for awhile, the energy shifting to be more comfortable as time progressed. Well, only for you. The longer Kan sits with you, the whispers turn to shouts, screaming at him to hurt you, to protect you, the two versions of him fighting silently in his mind. As you watch the soul tie begin, the two lovers descending together in the sacred river of gold, psychedelic substances altering their state of mind as they hold one another in the thick liquid, symbolizing their rebirth and the emergence of one, Kan finally looks at you again, a deep and aching despair unmistakable in his eyes, you can almost feel the grief radiating off of him. He stands slowly, careful not to draw too much attention to himself, before giving you a courteous nod, leaving you alone once again. You give a gentle wave and smile before he turns away, silently thanking him for his company. You watch him walk away, his head jerking slightly, like he's having an internal battle with himself. And he is; his mind flashes images in his head, pictures of you when you took your life, your wrists slit, blood coating the ground beneath you. How hollow and cold you looked, how stiff you were against his chest as he held you, begging for you to come back, pleading with you to not leave him. He'd forgive you for hurting him if you just came back. The voice is telling him to do the same thing to you, to force your wrists open again, to this time be able to watch the light leave your eyes.

He knows it would be easy.

#oc x reader #oc x you #self insert #alien oc #my ocs #original character #self ship #writing #elf oc #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc

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celesteskingdom · 9 months ago

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Character Rambles Part 2

Logan! My second favorite. There's a special place in my heart reserved for shy introverts. Believe me when I say I was more than gleeful to find out how there were layers to this astronomy dork! Yes, he's a nerd. Yes, he's shy. Yes, he's bullied. But is he not simple? Absolutely not! He learnt how to shoot a rifle with great accuracy! He manages to steel his nerves in order to get things done.

He learned self-defense to help him with his bullies. I don't believe that violence is always the answer, but it is necessary at times. Much of the time, actions speak louder than words. His bullies wouldn't have left him alone, or lessened their bullying, if he tried to reason it out with them. This is coming from someone that has been bullied; some bullies just don't do words. While I've never retaliated with violence, I can understand why Logan did. He was quite literally just defending himself.

He's intelligent too. He strikes me as an anxious person but he pushes through that. And that? That takes guts. There's not much known about his backstory but I'm sure we'd all love to know more!

The way he's taken all of this in stride is impressive. The way they all have taken this in stride is impressive.

Logan, though? I didn't think this was how he would've been given character development. I'm pleasantly surprised by the route Red took!

Taylor! She holds my heart dearly. The way she explicitly cares for all of them says so about her. Even in the backgrounds of panels where the focus isn't on her, you can clearly grasp her kindness and sweetness. The way she's grown as a character is just. Wow. To me. She's so mentally and emotionally strong. She's good at keeping them together and getting them to cooperate with one another.

The way she's keeping herself together too! She's does mechanics too? That's so cool! A very sweet and caring character that knows her worth, and how to keep the team together.

Tylerrrr! Hello, jock! Now..where do I even begin with him? Surface level, he's definitely a jerk. In depth, still a jerk but with layers. Yeah, he can be very brash and harsh at times but can you blame him? At one point did either of the twins have a regular childhood? All he's trying to do is keep his sister safe and keep himself safe too. And yet, he's grown fond of the rest of the team to the point he too wants to keep them safe! He sees them as family too.

You can see him growing irritated at Logan's bully. You can see him chilling with the others in the backgrounds of panels. Sure, a lot of the panels have him acting as a jerk or being irritated, so what? Look at his small sighs. Look at how he grows more and more comfortable with the rest of the team.

I love all of them, individually and together as a team. Look out for a post talking about their dynamics sometime soon!

#school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #tyler hernandez #tyler sbg #taylor hernandez #taylor sbg #logan fields #logan sbg #sbg (webtoon)#sbg

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fluffwritingsandchars · 4 months ago

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A Blaze Between Us

Fandom: MHA (My Hero Academia)

Ships: Dabi x Hawks

Summary:

"A Blaze Between Us" follows Hawks as he navigates his dangerous undercover mission within the Paranormal Liberation Front, only to find himself drawn into a slow-burning and tumultuous relationship with Dabi. As their connection deepens, Hawks is forced to confront the clash between his duty and growing affection for Dabi, while Dabi struggles with his own possessiveness and trust issues. The story explores themes of betrayal, redemption, and the emotional scars that define both men.

Chapter One: Phase 1: Infiltration

The quiet hum of the Paranormal Liberation Front's underground headquarters vibrated through the walls as Hawks strode down the dimly lit corridor. His movements were casual, almost lazy, as he twirled a pen between his fingers—an innocuous action that masked the tension running through his body. He could feel the weight of every gaze that lingered on him, each one more suspicious than the last. He'd been careful, methodical even, in building his cover within the PLF. But here, in the heart of enemy territory, he could never let his guard down. Especially not around Dabi.

As he approached the massive steel door that led to the meeting room, Hawks flicked the pen into his pocket, replacing it with his usual confident grin. No need to let them see the cracks in his mask.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing the heart of the PLF’s operations—a spacious, low-ceilinged room filled with members of the upper echelon. Monitors lined the walls, each displaying critical data on the group’s activities: recruitment numbers, attack plans, communications with other cells. At the far end of the room sat a long table, occupied by the leaders of the PLF. They watched as Hawks entered, their expressions a mixture of indifference and vague curiosity.

Twice waved at him energetically from his seat, always too friendly for his own good. Spinner offered a curt nod of acknowledgment, while a few others murmured amongst themselves. But it was the man seated at the head of the table that commanded the most attention.

Dabi.

Even in a room full of dangerous individuals, Dabi's presence was the one that set Hawks’ nerves on edge. He leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, arms resting lazily on the table, his scarred face as unreadable as ever. The eerie glow from the fluorescent lights above reflected off his skin, casting sharp shadows across the jagged burn marks that twisted his features. His pale blue eyes, however, were far from disinterested. They tracked Hawks’ every move with a predator’s intensity, dissecting him with a gaze that could burn even without his flames.

“Nice of you to join us, birdman,” Dabi drawled, his voice slow and deliberate, as if he were tasting the words before spitting them out.

Hawks grinned, giving a mock salute as he slid into the nearest chair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Got to stay in the loop, you know?”

The room fell silent as Hawks settled in, and Tomura Shigaraki’s voice cut through the air. “We’re preparing for our next move. Hawks, you’re here to keep us updated on your outreach efforts. How are things looking on the Hero front?”

Hawks had been carefully feeding the PLF just enough information to keep them satisfied without giving away any real advantage. It was a balancing act—keeping them on edge, while ensuring his reports held just enough truth to seem credible.

“Same as before,” Hawks replied casually, leaning back in his chair as if he were discussing the weather. “The Hero Commission’s scrambling to keep up with your movements. They’re getting desperate, which means they’re also getting sloppy. All good news for us.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the room, though Hawks could feel Dabi’s eyes still locked onto him, unblinking, unwavering. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain calm under the scrutiny.

He needed to keep the focus on the mission. His mission. Infiltrating the PLF had been no easy task. It had taken months of playing the double agent, winning their trust by feeding them just enough intel to seem valuable, but not enough to damage the Hero Society’s defenses beyond repair. And yet, as deep as he’d gotten into the PLF, there was always the feeling of danger gnawing at his spine. At any moment, they could see through him, and then it would all be over. He was walking a razor’s edge, and Hawks knew better than anyone that a single misstep could cost him everything.

“Desperate heroes make mistakes,” Dabi said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through the room. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, those pale eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “And so do double agents.”

Hawks didn’t flinch, though his mind raced. Dabi’s mistrust had always been apparent. He was more perceptive than the others—always watching, always waiting. Unlike the rest of the PLF leadership, who were content with the information Hawks provided, Dabi had never stopped questioning his loyalty. He couldn’t prove anything, of course, but the suspicion was always there, lurking beneath the surface like an ember waiting for fuel.

“Good thing I’m not the one making mistakes then,” Hawks replied smoothly, maintaining his easygoing demeanor. He shot Dabi a wink, as if to defuse the tension with a bit of charm. “I’m just here to help bring this whole system down.”

Dabi didn’t smile, didn’t blink. He just stared, his fingers drumming lightly against the table, the rhythm slow and deliberate. It was a warning. Hawks could feel it.

“Let’s not get distracted,” Shigaraki interrupted, his voice sharp. “We need to move forward. Re-Destro has his hands full consolidating our forces. Hawks, I want you to stay in contact with him. We’ll need more support in the coming days.”

Hawks nodded, feeling the weight of the mission pressing against him again. His role was to keep feeding them intel, playing both sides until the time was right. But as he looked around the room, at the faces of the people he was supposed to bring down, he couldn’t help but feel a gnawing sense of unease. The more time he spent with them, the harder it became to maintain the lie.

Twice, who sat across from him, grinned brightly. “Man, it’s great having you on board, Hawks! Things just feel like they’re really coming together, you know? You’ve done more for the cause than most of us could’ve imagined.”

“Yeah,” Spinner chimed in, adjusting the hilt of his sword at his side. “It’s hard to believe a hero could be so… useful.”

The praise was casual, but it felt like a weight in Hawks’ chest. Every compliment, every word of trust, only made the guilt twist deeper inside him. These people—these villains—had started to see him as one of their own. And in some twisted way, that’s exactly what he needed. He had to be a part of this world if he wanted to take it down from the inside.

But there was something about Dabi. Something that lingered at the back of his mind every time their eyes met. It wasn’t just the suspicion—it was the emptiness in Dabi’s gaze, the raw hatred simmering just below the surface. Hawks had seen anger before, but Dabi’s was different. His rage wasn’t born out of a desire for power or chaos. It was personal, deep, and unrelenting. Hawks could see it in the way he moved, the way he spoke. The burns on his skin weren’t just scars from his quirk—they were a reflection of the fire that consumed him from the inside out.

As the meeting continued, with Shigaraki outlining the next steps for their operation, Hawks let his mind drift, his attention still on Dabi. What was it that drove him? What had turned him into the cold, detached figure sitting across the table, eyes burning with silent fury?

The PLF members had always been a mystery to him, but something about Dabi’s mannerisms, his fire, and his relentless hatred tugged at Hawks’ instincts. He’d need to dig deeper, figure out what it was that made Dabi tick. Perhaps it would help him keep the upper hand, or perhaps it would only further complicate his role in the PLF. Either way, he couldn’t afford to ignore the threat that Dabi posed.

“Are we clear on the next steps?” Shigaraki’s voice snapped Hawks out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. The room had grown silent, and all eyes were on him, waiting for his response.

“Crystal clear,” Hawks said, pushing aside his thoughts and focusing on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to slip, not here, not now. The mission came first, and for now, that meant playing his part perfectly.

The meeting began to break up, with the leaders filtering out one by one. Hawks lingered for a moment, letting the others leave before rising from his seat. But before he could head for the door, Dabi’s voice cut through the quiet room.

“You should be careful, Hawks.”

Hawks paused, glancing back at him. Dabi hadn’t moved from his spot at the table, but his eyes were locked onto Hawks, burning with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored.

“There’s only so long a double agent can fly before his wings get burned.”

Hawks forced a laugh, keeping his tone light. “Guess I’ll have to stay grounded then.”

But as he left the room, Dabi’s words echoed in his mind, a chilling reminder that no matter how deep his cover went, the fire was always right behind him, waiting for him to slip.

And when that fire came, there would be no escaping the flames.

#my hero academia #mha #bkha #boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #dabi #mha dabi #dabihawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hotwings #ao3 hotwings

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shivunin · 9 months ago

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15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you so much for the tag @dreadfutures! I love this, and it's given me an excuse to comb back through Wander again c: This was honestly a really fun exercise because so much of character voice for me is carried by the context/narrative tone (and Emma especially writes a lot of letters in this fic, which aren't really dialogue).

So - for Emmaera Lavellan (Emma):

“We hear your concerns, ambassador. My advisor and I will discuss it at length, I assure you. Please, feel free to find either of us if you have concerns about the accommodations at Skyhold ahead of the fete.”

“It doesn’t feel like we do, Josie. We already saved the world. Why couldn’t that be enough?”

"When I’m sitting in those meetings, I think about all the ways I could get away from here without someone noticing. I think about climbing down from the tower, or hiding in the stables until night and taking the dracolisk out."

“Your new owner was a bad man,” she continued, “I’m sorry for that. But if you’ll let me help, I will make sure you’re cared for as long as you stay with me.”

"We didn’t have to put other faces on for each other–when we were alone, we spoke plainly and left behind the facades. So when I tell you he wasn’t the one who put the knife in my chest, believe me: It wasn’t him.”

“It had better be little. I’ve had enough parties in my honor to last a lifetime.”

"This woman would not know her Maker if he picked her up by the heel and shook her."

"I don’t know. Is there a problem? I’ve heard I can’t do anything myself. Seems like I should be no manner of threat at all to one such as you–who killed a single , individual Venatori three years ago."

"You once saw me throw a fireball into a dragon’s mouth while it had me between its teeth. I think I can manage to walk down a dirty street alone, missing arm or no."

“You’ll see. I’m just - not suited to lounging around this manor and hoping for the best. I have to do something. And if I have nothing to do here–”

“But it would look so dashing. Maybe I want it to heal crooked.”

"Silly choice of metals, gold. All soft and shiny. I’d rather a heart of iron or steel or–ooh, dragon bone would be fantastic. Very durable, dragon bone. Velvet, though–-that would be novel. A heart of velvet: prickly one way and soft the other. Uncomfortably warm in the summer. That fits much better.”

"If the choice was between forgiveness and moving on–what else could I choose?"

"He knows how to open doors. It hasn’t become a problem yet.”

"Even if you forget someday, this is yours to read as you wish. I thought you should have that, to decide for yourself what you want to know."

Tagging @greypetrel @inquisimer @nightwardenminthara @idolsgf @transprincecaspian @star--nymph @vakarians-babe and you!!

#tbh tempted to compile lists for the others but what i realized while doing this #is that emma talks a lot less than i realized #and that doing this for maria would probably be a nightmare lmao #because she talks so much #it would be hard to pare the list down #tag game #emmaera lavellan #emma talks most when she's mad and delirious is what i learned in this exercise haha

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cursed-blade-gf · 2 years ago

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Ok, this story is a 3-parter. Petra’s story is the anchor for my entire world that I’ve built and she is sewn directly into my heart so I wanted to tell her story in as much detail as I could. I love all of my OC’s, but Petra is my favorite and I hope you love reading her story as much as I do writing it. @ebevkisk

CW: Grief, Arrest, Mentions of Death and Madness, Dark Sequences

Angel of Blood Part 1

Before every story I’ve told for our heroes, there was a lie. Multanith’s lie was an execution of an entire race on the continent of Cor Varias itself. A war crime that shook the world of Luzitaria. Governments shifted and the gods themselves unleashed a deep wrath that would shape the continent into what it was today. What a lot of people don’t know is that this event shifted the fates of an otherwise normal Aasimar into the world’s most sought after creature and the world’s most dangerous individual, but in order to tell her story, we have to tell it from the very beginning.

On the other side of the world was the continent of Pelo Avias. Pelo Avias was known as the Realm of Wings as most of the continent was constantly floating above the Guridan Ocean. Unlike the Floating Cities of Steel and Titanium, Pelo Avias was built atop several magic infused landmasses. The people that lived there were a mixing pot of people all led by a magocracy of the world’s most prolific arcane practitioners. All of them were geared towards the betterment of the continent and it was thriving.

Living deep within the streets of Pelo Avias was a young boy. This 9-year-old child lived with two wizards who kept him safe and took care of him while he grew. He had fiery red hair, lavender eyes, and This boy had divine blood that ran through his veins, but it felt dark and malevolent somehow. This boy also struggled with a problem. He didn’t like the idea that he was born as a boy, though he’d never voiced it to his guardians before.

His guardians attempted to give this child a normal life because they knew they couldn’t protect him from his destiny for much longer and especially with how the Disparity had started to shake the world, the wizards couldn’t how much longer they could keep their secret under the covers.

This child was a prodigy. Magic of all kinds came to them so naturally as if the world was attuned to their presence. Arcane and divine symbols flared and even the child’s own writing sprang into vibrant shades of color as they wrote. The wizards were in awe of how much this child knew.

One day, the wizards spoke to the child and said “We fear something will try to take you from us, so we’re going to travel somewhere far away, ok? If there is anything we can do to make you happier, we would do it.”

The child looked up at their parents and said “Would it be ok if I was a girl instead?”

They looked at each other and said “Oh, of course, hun. We’ll do this spell really quick and then we need to pack our things.” With a quick wave of her hand, Petra became her true self. Beaming, Petra ran off to pack her things.

As Petra was finishing finding all of her books, a knock came to the door. One of her mothers came to Petra with panic in her eyes and helped her hide. Petra used a spell to cast Clairvoyance to watch over her other parent to see what was going on.

The other wizard went to the door. As she opened it, an imposing figure stood at the door. This being, even through the spell, radiated a deeply and uncomfortably powerful energy. Almost overpowering and yet familiar.

“Where is my child?” He said.

The wizard dusted herself off. “We told you years ago, you can’t see her. You had your chance. You and her mother treated her with vile abandon and you are not welcome in this home.”

The being’s eyes flared blood red. “You do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own blood. I am a god, you insignificant creature. Tell me where she is or I will take matters into my own hands.”

The wizard stood her ground defiantly without a word.

“Fine. I’m the god of tyranny for a reason. Subjugation is my specialty and the mortal will is a mere toy.” Reaching out a hand, the man attempted to force her will and she countered. Right as a fight ensued, Petra broke her own concentration.

Her other guardian gave her a hug. “This is what we were worried about. I’m sending you to a place you’ll be safe, ok? Somewhere where life is more complicated, but he won’t be able to find you.”

Memories flashed through Petra’s mind of a man like that. One who had treated her terribly. “But what about you?”

The wizard smiled. “We’ll be right behind you, ok?”

As the wizard cast teleportation, Petra felt the whooshing she was used to as arcane runes covered her vision and in a couple seconds she appeared in a tower.

In an instant, Petra could feel the time shift. She was halfway across the world. As she looked around, she found herself in a gilded room with golden tapestries and all manner of artifacts and times. A door opened and she found an old goblin. “Ah, Miss Petra. It’s nice to formally meet you. I am Hybrill Grawne. I work with your guardians and they told me of your arrival just a few minutes ago. If you could please come with me…” He gestured towards the door he’d just walked through and Petra followed. She was barely taller than he was, but he felt like a humble kindred soul, so her nerves slowly began to calm despite the rushed nature of the day she had had.

The goblin led her to a window and she saw, sprawled out before her, a gorgeous city of pale ivory and vibrant colors and, beyond that, miles of wilderness and farmland, all leading up to the tallest mountain she’d ever seen sitting on the horizon. “Welcome to Cor Varias. This is the Capital City of Pelevair.”

Petra, still justifiably upset after the rush of emotions she’d just had. Going from the happiest she’d ever been to being ripped away from the only loving people she’d ever known, she couldn’t help but attempt to make sense of it all. The sun was setting even though she’d only been awake for a couple hours at this point.

“My parents are in trouble.” Petra said, failing to hide her concern. Hybrill gave a grim nod. “I’m well aware, my child, but if anyone can take care of themselves, it’s them. Tell me, do you like books?” The goblin said, leading her down the stairs.

Petra was dumbfounded. “I mean yeah, but what does that have to do with…”

Hybrill handed a book to her. “Your parents told me how truly gifted you are with magic.”

Petra snarled. “Well, yeah but I don’t see how that would…”

Hybrill continued to lead her down the stairs. “Well, your parents told me that you basically graduated from high school two years ago, so if you would like to help me with the library, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Petra snapped. “Why are you being like this? My parents might be dead!” As the words escaped her mouth, her lavender eyes welled up with tears as all of the bottled up emotions broke at the same moment and she collapsed to the floor.

As she cried, a worn, gnarled hand gently touched her shoulder.

“The world does not fight fair. Whether it be by the gods’ will or by the universe itself, fate does not always use a gentle touch. I may not be able to say the fate of your guardians, but I can prepare you to find them. I am the Arcane Protector of the Mortal Accretion. This library carries everything we know about this world we live in and of what we are capable. Work as my page and as a scribe and I will do all within my power to prepare you.”

Petra, still crying, looked down. Her world had changed in a matter of minutes, but this library gave her the tools. Enough time spent here and maybe. Just maybe.

~~~

A decade had passed and Petra had become an integral part of the library. As Hybrill Grawne’s star pupil and apprentice, the archive had never been more organized. When Petra turned 18, Hybrill Grawne offered to do her gender reassignment spell and she accepted. Finally, when she turned 21, she had completely caught and surpassed her tutor. Truly proficient in all schools of magic, she decided it was time to begin her search.

As she packed her bags, there was a knock at the front door. Hybrill Grawne moved to answer it and a panicked energy entered the library. Petra listened as she heard him speaking with two guards. She recognized their voices and the urgency within them.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“Council’s orders. We sincerely apologize. Step aside.”

“You take her and nothing will change. She has done nothing wrong.”

“Step aside!”

She heard the guards approaching and, as she turned, the guards magically restrained her and carried her off into the dead of night without so much as a word as to why, Hybrill audibly crying as she was arrested.

~~~

The next two weeks were a nightmare. The Divine Acolyte, the leader of worship and clergy of the church had ordered a seize and contain order on all Aasimar upon the continent. Hundreds of thousands of Aasimar were corralled without reason and brought to the Ivory City. Children, adults, elderly. All were brought and led into the catacombs beneath the city and left to rot as a safeguard to protect the commonwealth against the deities’ war that continued to ravage the world. Petra felt the tension and sadness that drifted off of all of the people that she was led with and the deeper they went, the worse it got.

The Catacombs of the City were an underground tower of stairs. Just a drop into darkness where thousands of people were kept. Fires were struck to keep the light from fading as people organized on the stairs to find places to sleep and reconnect with their loved ones. Several Aasimar even played music on the few instruments they had.

Petra had found a small alcove to duck into. She had managed to keep the one Satchel of Holding she used to pack all of her things. She could still feel the sadness echoing into her soul as she sat, dimly lit by a fire she had made out of some hay and a fire bolt cantrip.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Slowly with the passage of time, several of the inhabitants of the catacombs began to fade. The voices of talking became quieter as the days dragged on. People tried to keep everyone alive with the use of magic and spells, but eventually they fell into a deep endless sleep as well. As more time dragged on, some Aasimar were even driven mad by the conditions, wandering the catacombs in a state of insanity. So much so that Petra had to continue to move deeper down the staircase to avoid being found by her lost compatriots. The Aasimar were lost and Petra’s only hope for salvation was downward.

#petra naverrian

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fantomevoleur · 11 months ago

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Valentine's. A day for couples. A day Makoto gets to enjoy with the one and only boy who stole her heart. It's cheesy and so unlike the Student Council President to be so... happy today, but she had a good reason. She had purchased the best chocolates she could find, and they were both pricey and delicious according to the cashier. She trusted her judgement and set out to find Akira during their lunch break.

She spotted a head of messy black hair heading for the cafeteria and quickly stopped him by tapping his shoulder. "Akira, wait!" She called out and once he turned his head, the brunette presented him with a red heart-shaped chocolate box wrapped in a dark blue bow. It even had a card saying 'to my Joker... from your Queen'.

"For you... Happy Valentine's day." The red color on her cheeks was inevitable. "Um, if you're free, I'd like to walk home with you today as well." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly.

Another Valentine's filled Shujin's halls with lovestruck couples and students steeling their bravado to confess their true feelings towards their crush. It was a holiday of love, and heartbreak. Fifty-fifty, so long as fate's scales favored the individual's desires. Akira always felt more neutral when it came to February's festivities, minding much of his own business and quietly overserving his surroundings. He'd be lucky if one person handed him leftover handmade chocolates or a homemade, crafted card just to feel included. Yet the second-year never minded being ignored. It wasn't the first time, nor did he expect it to be the last.

Sometimes, though, a small surprise made all the difference. A few 'mysterious, unmarked letters' appeared inside his locker, each written with patience and careful writing. So some students happened to foster deeper sentiments to the delinquent transfer student? How thoughtful. His besmirched name must not have driven away all of his fellow classmates. Those notes remained in place, tucked away and safely hidden underneath his books. Their bravery for taking the first step forward was something to admire, and Akira wished he knew their names in order to congratulate them. And at the same time, let them down easy and in person.

His heart belonged to a queen, after all.

Those thoughts must have materialized into reality since grey hues spotted the brunette jogging down the breezeway. A medium-sized, heart-shaped box took his attention almost immediately as she presented it to him in celebration of today's events. The cold-hearted, student council president participating in a love-themed festival? Guess this could count as a miracle.

"Well, well, Miss Prez. I never expected you to go out of your way and buy chocolates for little ole me~." He playfully teased, smirking and prodding the woman with his brand of mischief. "The good kind, too. I must be reeeeally special if you bought this just for me." It was the truth. In his eyes, Makoto held more importance to him than most others, aside from his merry band of thieves.

She loved him. And he loved her. Completely.

Once he set the box on a nearby bench, he stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. Screw it if anyone happened to be around there at the time! It was Valentine's Day after all, so he could display as much PDA as he desired. "Thank you, dear. Let's share these together later on today. Perhaps in the student council office? After school hours~?"

#ic #Akira #fatexbound #Our Light Safe and Sound - Post P5R Verse #((little bastard wanted to make a scene out of this #just to piss off anyone nearby too #but also he's so happy Mako gifted him a treat #he'll pay her back in full and then some don't you worry :3))#l

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offrozenmemoirs · 1 year ago

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Slinking from the shadows of the alley, Maisie Doscedar steps into the fringe of the prince's peripheral. Both of her hands are clasped at the small of her back, silent and assured, her posture impeccable. As Dewburrow's proverbial eyes, details scarcely escape her. Though she may not always grasp the full narrative, a pattern spotted means the tracking commences for the one-person hunting party. "Koto, what a pleasure to see you this evening." She greets him with a welcoming smile. The following inquiry comes with candid casualness: "A quick query: have you, by chance, noticed Orchidus' spontaneous disappearances?" Her lips press together, her eyes briefly flitting as if gathering her thoughts. "It's a strange recurrence."

Her gaze returns to him, that genial glimmer going from her eyes. "It is almost as if he was plucked from our midst by unseen forces. Spirited away even. Funny that." A sharp intensity belied in her eyes, the mirth hollowed from her voice. It's best not to deceive, for Maisie's eyes are as keen as a hunting dog finding its quarry.

Unprompted Asks || Accepting! @allthatisleftinthedark

"Hm, I don't know what you mean. Why would I bother sheltering Orchidus when he's shown to enjoy your home more than mine?"

Makoto's face betrays no emotion as he speaks. After all, he doesn't need the gnome beginning to question him or any of his potential exploits. Not to mention that he and Ori hadn't really given any real talk about what this was. They're less in a relationship and more...Two very confused individuals who happen to have an interest in one another. It's something he worries over, because he's aware of the bleedover's effect on himself, but he's not certain on how it affects his party members. Their union is something uncertain already, close to being fragile. If not because of the inherent issues that came from Ori not belonging to their world, then certainly his and Maisie's statuses as representatives of their homes.

"I certainly wouldn't hide your boytoy from you."

He smiles, almost casually as he places his hands behind his back. Glacial eyes peering back into her own.

[Don't you get bored of pretending you're not hopelessly pining after her? You could probably get somewhere if you were honest with your feelings for once. But you're too stubborn to open yourself to something new, aren't you?]

His face betrays nothing as he begins to walk away from Maisie. Already feeling Khorne's presence returning once more, he needs to leave before things go out of control. It's one thing to deal with the dark god of war when he was angered enough...It's another entirely when it comes to matters of the heart.

[Ignoring me again, 'Koto? You wound me. You know I won't go anywhere, not for long. For one so cold about the taking of lives...You're certainly a coward when it comes to embracing others, aren't you?]

"Be silent."

Makoto keeps his face steeled, and his lips do not move as he speaks within his mind.

[All should behold the poor Prince of Frost. An unfeeling paragon of sacrificing all for the sake of his people! Denying himself the pleasures of the flesh and even pride in war! Truly, if he were any more of a courageous man, he would be a Saint!]

Makoto's wings spread and he took to the skies, he needed to leave, lest Maisie question him, and not out of whatever she wanted to learn, but concern most likely. He supposes he understands...He is a constant risk, falling into a blood rage if he's not careful when he gets angered enough. His very nature as a spirit made his emotions a much stronger thing than he liked to admit. He hates that he doesn't know how to be vulnerable, because the very idea of someone seeing him at his lowest, seeing the facade crumble into dust...It terrifies him. He doesn't know what to do, because he was never prepared to deal with this.

He does not want these feelings, because what was he supposed to do with them? How was he supposed to open himself to another, when it meant that he would have to open himself to losing them?

Tis better to suffer in silence.

#canto d'inverno (in character; makoto)#allthatisleftinthedark

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gloriousxdarkness · 5 months ago

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This place is made up of clean lines, stainless steel, and suspiciously few windows for a multi-story building in New York. Despite that, despite the severe differences in aesthetic, it reminds Elektra of the Wall in a small... nagging way she can't quite put her finger on. The Wall was a gutted detached house meant for more than one family, or perhaps formerly a bed and breakfast of some kind, that let in slanted light and had a perpetual smell of dusty wood, sweat, and rubber. This place has a near absence of scent to Elektra's nose. It's even a different kind of quiet. The kind where noise means you aren't being silent, a silence expected even in the midst of sparring, not like kids battling it out on the mats. Here, noise indicates a disruption to their order, but where a word spoken carries weight.

"Enough." Her eyes land on each of the three physically restraining Matthew, figures who bolt upright and withdraw to individual, equally spaced corners of the room almost as if they'd choreographed it. But she doesn't dismiss them. She can practically feel the racing heart in Matthew's chest from across the space, imagine the ache in the slowly lightening bruises all over his body, wonder what his special senses take in about his surroundings. His limbs have mercifully been left untethered to the hospital bed, though perhaps that's only a mark he's not considered a threat at the moment.

To dismiss them would mean to be alone with Matt, and she's not about to indicate to anyone she wants privacy. Not going to do anything to dent the perception of her leadership. Approaching him amongst others feels a bit like stepping onto a tightrope, though. Careful, middle steps. Can't dwell on the sudden flair of a reminder that no one but the voice in her head says Elektra anymore. It's not who she is, to them. Not who she is here.

"I'm sure you have questions," she eases a step closer at a pace that feels controlled, measured to command calm into this room, blowing past hellos. "You suffered internal bleeding, and were given a blood transfusion. So, don't rip out your IVs." Such as with sudden acts of violence, obviously. "You may experience shock," she forewarns with the bland professionalism of a doctor. She knows Matt is not unfamiliar with the side effects of pain, but she also wants to avoid an ignorant lashing out if possible. "As the morphine wears off. There was a chance of head injury, but you don't seem to be impaired." Perhaps her way of explaining why his mask was removed in front of unknown persons, or curbing a volatile reaction once that occurs to him. Perhaps simply the sum of his diagnosis. "Two days have passed."

the world is quiet, unknowable to him as he's taken from the alleyway into the custody of elektra's faction. the bumpy ride, the dubious stares, the watchful gaze of his .... savior? and then later on, the pain that would come from tending to the numerous injuries that litter his body is not even enough to rouse him.

once or twice, amidst his recovery, his eyes attempt to flutter open and adjust to the lighting that casts the room in a clinical glow. after all, their hideout isn't exactly cozy, but it's what's needed when the injured must recover. he vaguely registers a presence at bedside, a hesitation but an eventual gentle, lingering touch that he wants to stay. everything blends together as if in a distant dream, reaching but never grasping the sensations that surround him.

when matthew finally does wake, it progresses into a violent commotion. upon registering that he's anywhere other than home, he brings his hands to his face, finding his helmet removed as well as the rest of his suit. he's clothed in comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, the sheets are soft and non-abrasive to his skin. it's not like the sheets at home, but they'd been clearly chosen by someone who was well aware of his sensitivities.

as soon as he rises from the bed, grappling for whatever is nearby to gain a further understanding of his surroundings, the door flies open and hands push him back. despite the sore aches and flaring pain in his abdomen, matthew pushes back, and yells to be told where he is. it's not until a commanding voice rises above it all , that his unfixed gaze points towards the entryway to his room.

" ----elektra? "

#( oops i did it too )#( we can be better i swear )#knightrope #free universe;#hand!elektra

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thriller-roads · 2 years ago

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Speedwagon x reader

Have You No Shame?

Speedwagon x reader, gender-neutral

fluff, sexual humor, implied NSFW but not explicit

Having suffered vital injuries, Jonathan Joestar had to spend some time in the local hospital. Thanks to the individual care given to him by Erina Pendleton, he didn’t need to stay there much longer. Heck, he was even able to catch a fainting Erina with his broken arm after barely waking from a coma. That man was practically made of steel, and his noble spirit gained admiration from a certain blonde street thug.

"He should be getting out soon, seeing as his injuries are most likely healed by now," Speedwagon said as he strolled beside you. It was a bit over a week since Jonathan was in the hospital. Speedwagon had also suffered a few injuries, though he assured you it was nothing compared to what Jonathan had gone through. It seemed to be true enough, since Speedwagon himself was pretty much in good shape. He chose to abandon the cane he had, but you still offered him to lean on you if needed.

"Alright Robert, you go check on him. I'm gonna ask the nurses a few questions before heading up there myself. Is that alright with you?"

Speedwagon nodded. "Just fine. Like I said, my leg's doin' better now, so don't worry a bit about it." With that, he headed off down the hall.

A few moments after having a conversation with the nurses, you made your way towards the rooms. You checked the numbers on the doors in search of the one Jonathan was in, only to be met with an out of breath Speedwagon rushing your way. He came to a halt before you. "Y/n, I just witnessed something extraordinary!"

"What are you on about?"

"Jonathan's with Erina, and they're in there shagging! Oh it was truly a sight, doing the deed they were! I saw it all through the crack of the door, though I really wasn't counting on it!” He gestured all over the place, emphasizing each word with enthusiasm as he carried on.

"Mr. Joestar raised his pelvis with incredible speed and such precision, you'd think he was a powerful stallion at that rate! He had Erina up in his big strong arms, with the broad chest of a solid brick wall, all while being ever the gentleman as he thrusted his-"

"Woah woah Robert, slow down!" You cut off the man's rambling with a light tug of the tie. He was known to get a bit carried away with his words at times. "As much as I appreciate your detailed narration, I'd like to have a look at this myself! Which way is it?" Speedwagon shook off his adrenaline to pull you along towards Jonathan's room.

Before you two could reach the room however, you spotted a doctor and nurse at the other end of the hall. By the pace of their steps, it seemed they were also headed for Jonathan's room.

"Blimey! By the looks of it, that nurse and doctor are headed right towards Mr. Joestar's room!" Speedwagon exclaimed.

"Yeah, I can see that," you mumbled. Getting a better look at the doctor in question, you realized you recognized the man. "Wait a minute, that's not just any doctor, that's Erina's father!"

Learning this information troubled Speedwagon further. "Oh god, if they find Jonathan and Erina in there, it would be the embarrassment of the century! Who knows what her father would do."

"Quick, we need to make a distraction!" You frantically urged.

"What sorta distraction?" Speedwagon clutched at his chest momentarily, thinking perhaps faking a heart attack would work.

Your first thought was just to shout nonsense. On second thought, you might be deemed a madman and be put into the nuthouse for doing so. You rummaged at the back of your brain until a brilliant idea hit you. Without any warning, you pushed Speedwagon against the wall. "Y/n? What are you-" You were practically climbing onto him. Then, in a rather loud monotone voice, you said, "OH ROBERT MY LOVE, TAKE ME RIGHT HERE AND NOW!"

Robert's face flushed at your sudden behavior. "WHAT!?"

"OH ROBERT, I WANT YOU SO BADLY! Let us make love!" You made sure to project your voice, all while pressing yourself against the confused man. You wrapped a leg around his torso and held onto him, briefly turning your head to look back. Before Speedwagon could further question you, a voice called out.

"Hey, you two! Just what in god's name do you think you're doing!?" It was the doctor. An appalled expression crossed his features. The distraught nurse beside him had a similar reaction as she screeched out, "What impropriety is this? We're in a hospital, for the love of God!"

Speedwagon was starting to catch on to what you were doing, but that didn't take away his embarrassment. Still, he tried his best to play along. "Uh…OF COURSE MY LOVE, I shall take you HERE AND NOW! Nothing can...subdue my urges!"

Hoping your little act was convincing enough, you took Speedwagon's hand and ran off around the corner. The doctor and nurse chased after you in pursuit, shouting something about having no shame or dignity.

Being somewhat familiar with the hospital's layout, you were lucky enough to come across an open door. You dashed inside and pulled Speedwagon along with you. Speedwagon closed the door carefully so as to not make too much noise. The two of you sat in silence as footsteps approached. Your heart was racing, and it wasn’t just because of the running, or the fear of being found by the doctor and nurse. It was the embarrassment that finally caught up to you. It was the fear of what Speedwagon thought of you after the whole thing.

Your uneasy thoughts were interrupted when you heard a familiar feminine voice added into the mix. “Father! I heard the commotion. What on Earth happened?”

“Erina dear, there you are. We saw a couple of shameless hooligans all over each other just now. It was such preposterous behavior. To think anyone would do such a thing under this roof!”

The entire conversation was carried out not too far from the broom closet, so you and Speedwagon could hear it clearly.

“W-what, really? My, how shameful indeed…” Erina’s voice trailed off. To anyone who wasn’t aware of the events that had transpired, Erina’s statement would’ve seemed perfectly fine. Although in complete darkness, you and Speedwagon glanced at each other from the corner of your eyes, as if calling the lady out on her hypocrisy. She best be thankful she wasn't the so-called 'hooligan' her father had the misfortune of witnessing.

“The fools probably ran out by now, but still, do keep an eye out,” the doctor advised. Erina nodded at her father in understanding. Internally, she was thanking the heavens it wasn’t her and Jonathan he had seen. Although she was curious on who exactly he had seen, she let the matter go for now. After all, she was just moments away from being found out herself. She wasn’t even aware her father would be here today, otherwise she wouldn’t have let her guard down so easily.

“Now Erina, you’ve been looking after Mr. Jonathan Joestar, yes?” Erina was startled by the mention of her lover's name, but nodded quickly in response.

Her father didn’t seem to suspect a thing. "Good. I was just on my way to check on his condition myself, so let us carry on now.” The sound of their voices and footsteps soon faded. Once you were in the clear, you and Speedwagon let out shared sighs of relief.

“Bloody hell, that was close. Now let’s get the hell out of here.” Speedwagon stood to open the door. When he turned the knob however, it didn’t budge. He tried again. Shaking the door, still nothing. “Blazes! This damn thing won’t budge. It appears we’ve locked ourselves in.”

You groaned in frustration. “What? How fortunate…” You tried feeling around the room, and ended up finding a lamp. You turned it on, and didn’t know whether to be grateful for the light or not. On one hand, you could get a better look at your surroundings. On the other, you now had to look Speedwagon in the eyes, making your embarrassment flood back to you.

“Well, at least this light works. Maybe we can find a key around here. If not, I guess we can always break down the door?” you suggested rather stupidly while scanning the room in search of anything useful. You were reaching for a broom when Speedwagon set a hand on your shoulder.

"Wait, Y/n, before anything…I wanted to ask you about earlier." Oh no, here it comes. You swallowed a lump in your throat and let the broom fall against the wall.

Speedwagon fidgeted with his tie and averted his gaze as he spoke. "Couldn't you have, OH I don't know- feigned a heart attack, or something other than canoodling with me!?" His cheeks were a fiery color, now matching yours.

You sat there in silence for a while, clutching onto the lamp as if a genie would come out to save you if you believed hard enough. You might not have been granted salvation, but the least you could receive was courage. “There’s a couple of reasons I chose to do what I did ya know," you started. For once, Speedwagon didn't say anything in response, instead waiting for you to elaborate.

“Well for one, when I spoke to the nurses earlier, they said something rather interesting. They told me there were rumors of a young couple getting frisky somewhere around the hospital.” You glanced momentarily at the man to make sure he was following along. As expected, his eyes were trained on you, and you quickly looked away to continue. "So when you told me about Jonathan and Erina, that pretty much confirmed it was them.”

Your reasoning was starting to dawn on him. “Ohhh, I get it! Eventually they’d be found out, unless someone else beat 'em to the punch. Now everyone will just think it’s us.”

“Precisely. I’m willing to take the blame for their sake. After all, it’s not our reputation that matters here.” You knew Speedwagon felt the same way about those two, if not more. You would do anything to uphold their honor, even if their sudden fuck session was uncalled for.

“I don’t think the doctor got a good look at our faces anyhow,” you added with a shrug, followed by a rolling of the eyes. “Honestly, the things we do for those two. Didn’t know this came with being best man or maid of honor, yet here we are.”

Speedwagon was in complete agreement with you. Although it made sense so far, he recalled there was more to the story. Curious to know, he questioned further. “Yes, well you said you had a couple of reasons for doing that little act back there, so…mind telling me the other reason?”

Here comes the hard part. “Oh, right. W-well you see Speedwagon…I did it simply because I desired to do so. I’ve been wanting to for a while now." The increasing beating of your heart was impossible to ignore at this point. "I know these aren’t exactly the most favorable circumstances, but oh well. Blame those two for not being able to keep it in their trousers." You hoped a little jest would help hide your anxiousness, but who are you kidding, you were a mess.

Robert grinned bashfully at your choice of words. “Y-y/n are you saying then, that you feel something for me?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” you confirmed, setting the lamp down on a shelf. “I’m confessing my love to you in a damn broom closet.” The awkwardness of the situation made you turn away and rest a palm against your face in dismay. The weight of his eyes on you was too much to bear right now. Because of your refusal to properly face him, you didn’t even notice he was smiling.

Although you were already in close enough proximity due to being in such an enclosed space, Robert stepped even closer to you. He lifted the palm that was covering your face, and held it in his own hand. The other was placed gingerly on your cheek, so you could turn to face him. Although his fingers were somewhat callused, the action was a tender one.

“Y/n, broom closet or not, I'm glad you said all this,” he said as he leaned in closer to you. In the dim glow of the lamp, you were the most precious thing to him. He’s sure even in complete darkness, he’d be able to identify your every breath.

How silly it was that not too long ago, you felt bold enough to practically crawl all over the man, but were now flustered by the slightest of his touches. His warm brown eyes held you captive, making it impossible to look away from him now. “What- what are you…”

“I must confess I love you too, dearest.” You froze in place for a moment, until the warmth of his lips melted away any remaining uncertainty. Your mouths moved against each other, a bit out of tune at first. Eventually though, it was as if your lips were fated to meet in a silent symphony.

Once you pulled away, Speedwagon let out an amused chuckle. “I must say, that was rather bold of you back there, saying all those things with such volume and detail. Even I was rattled by it.”

“With such volume and detail? I learned that from you, Robert dear,” you smiled sweetly, running your fingers through his long shaggy hair. You then gave a dismissive laugh to wrap your arms around his neck. “And what’s bold is that Jonathan and Erina! Surely Jonathan’s at least still a bit injured, yet there he was going at it like nothing! Tell me, just how good was it? I’d like to know since I didn’t even get a chance to see, and we’re in this predicament now because of it.”

The image of Jonathan and Erina flashed before Speedwagon’s eyes, and it was still as clear as ever. He didn’t even mean to see, it just happened. “W-well…Mr. Joestar was certainly approaching his conclusion, along with Erina. I assure you they got to their agony of bliss if that's what you're asking.”

“How lovely for them,” you snorted in amusement. “Hm, as long as we’re stuck in this broom closet, what say we do something…exciting?”

With the hint of your suggestive tone, Speedwagon immediately knew what you meant. “Y-y/n! Here, really!?”

“What? I’m just saying maybe we should follow the example of our good friends. Surely, you've still got a stiff one from seeing Jonathan earlier,” you teased.

Speedwagon’s face turned a rosy shade at your inappropriate assumption, but he couldn't deny it. As if that wasn't enough to get him going, you would be the bane of his existence and ruin him further. “W-well, now that you mention it…”

You grin at his response, and slide a hand down to unbuckle his trousers. This would certainly keep you occupied for a while.

“I’ll be right with you Jonathan, let me just go fetch a broom!” Upon opening the door, Erina let out an astonished gasp. “Y-y/n!? Speedwagon!?”

The man in question was leaning against the wall with you knelt before him. You turned to the woman at the door while Speedwagon quickly tried using his coat to cover his exposed lower half.

Her surprised expression made you scoff. “Listen here Erina, don’t act like you weren't doing this with Jonathan just now. Though I suppose it was in a different position, but still.” You then handed Erina a broom. “Here ya go. Do close the door on your way out!"

Erina shut the door, stepping away slowly. Oh, so that’s what had happened. Though she really should've expected something like this to eventually take place.

#robert eo speedwagon #jjba x reader #speedwagon x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba #fluff #jojo's bizarre adventure #speedwagon

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sapphireclaw · 3 years ago

Note

If you don’t mind me asking, how does the reunion between Ingo and Emmet go?

Time to write a reunion fic woop woop here we go

(Tw for depressing thoughts and a panic attack. This was meant to be more light hearted but oops I made it emotional hurt/comfort. I’ll have to write an alternate version that’s sillier)

AO3 link

That Time Emmet’s Missing Brother Came Back Home After a Month but Turns Out He was Dead the Whole Time (and also he’s like 329 years old now)

Starting today, Ingo had been missing for over a month.

30 days.

They say that the chances of finding a missing person dwindle into slim to none after 48 hours.

It had been 725 hours and 37 minutes since Ingo disappeared from the subway tunnels without a trace.

The search was still going (Emmet was no longer allowed to join the search parties), but he knew that with time people would give up on finding a living man, and reduce the parties to a few individuals and cadaver Stoutlands.

Emmet refused to think about that, though. It had only been a month. A month without Ingo. A month of hell. But Ingo was still out there. He had to be.

Ever since he was forbidden from joining in on the search, Emmet took to lazing around his their apartment. The Battle Subway was closed, and he’d been forced to take leave from work. He felt lethargic and empty with nothing to do. Had been since Ingo never emerged from the tunnels to walk home with Emmet.

That was Emmet’s current state. Draped across the couch in a daze while his Pokémon attempted to get him to eat the food Elesa had brought him yesterday. Elesa’s support was much appreciated, but not always welcomed. Emmet didn’t need a caretaker. Elesa’s efforts would be better off aimed at finding Ingo than taking care of a depressed couch potato.

“Drilll...”

Speaking of potato...

Emmet sighed, lifting his face from the cushions to look over at his and Ingo’s shared Pokémon. Excadrill was standing near Emmet’s head, holding out a cold stuffed potato skin, pinched delicately between his steel claws. How he got into the Pokémon-proofed fridge to get at the leftovers, Emmet had no idea. Still, he couldn’t help but feel touched by the effort.

“Thank you, Wilbur.” Emmet murmured, offering the ground and steel type a weak smile as he took the cold food from him. Wilbur grunted happily, returning Emmet’s smile with one of his own. He seemed pleased with himself as Emmet took a bite of the potato, and soon left his trainer alone to eat.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth.

How pathetic was he? A grown man that couldn’t even eat properly without being babied by his own Pokémon. Not to mention Elesa having to bully him into completing other tasks a human needed in order to function.

Before Emmet could spiral further down such self-depreciating thoughts, there was a faint knocking at his apartment door. He looked up from his food, startled, and stared at the door. Who could possibly be visiting so late at night? Elesa had checked on him just yesterday. The thought of her visiting again so soon grated on his nerves. He didn’t need a babysitter.

The knocking came again, sounding more impatient this time due to Emmet’s inaction.

“I am Emmet, and I don’t feel up to socializing, Elesa. Please depart at once!”

There was a beat of silence, and Emmet could practically feel the hurt he caused. immediately, guilt slammed into him like a speeding bullet train.

Elesa was just trying to help, like any good friend would in his time of hardship. Pushing her away would do nothing but harm their relationship.

Even with the guilt eating at him, Emmet did not take back his words. It was true that he wasn’t in the mood to socialize. As much as he loved his dear friend, Emmet could only take so much in his current state before he risked suffering a shutdown. The only person he wanted to see right now was-

“...Emmet? Can you let me in, please? I don’t have my keys...”

Ingo.

That was Ingo. The voice was quiet, uncharacteristic of his brother, but undoubtedly his.

Emmet moved faster than he ever had before in his life, scrambling off the couch and nearly braining himself on the coffee table as a result. The subway boss practically ran on all fours to the door, never quite regaining his footing but desperate to reach his brother.

There was a split second after he grasped the doorknob and hauled himself up where Emmet suddenly froze. Doubt began to creep up his spine as he stared blankly at the wood inches in front of his face.

What if this was just another dream?

What if this was just another layer to his suffering. Emmet was no stranger to the occasional auditory hallucination, but never before had he experienced one quite as realistic as this. If he opened the door and there was no one standing on the other side, Emmet was sure that he’d break.

Another round of knocking jolted Emmet from his spiral yet again, making his ears ring with how close to the door he was standing.

If this was a hallucination, then it was a verrry convincing one.

Before he could doubt himself further, Emmet twisted the doorknob and thrust open the door. He did not blink as he did so, trusting his eyesight above his hearing at this point.

There in the hallway stood Ingo. Emmet couldn’t help but drink in the sight of his brother.

He looked different. His coat was ragged and torn, and he wore an odd pink garment under it. His face looked like it had aged years in the single month he was gone. Littered with scars and a few stress wrinkles. How verry strange.

Emmet stared at Ingo for what felt like ages while Ingo stared back.

Then, Ingo blinked, and Emmet caught the flash of purple light in his pupils, like the reflective tapetum lucidum of a nocturnal Pokémon.

Ah.

This was not Ingo, then.

An impostor.

A shapeshifting Pokémon playing a cruel trick on a grieving man.

Emmet felt faint, but mustered the strength to slam the door as hard as he could in the trickster’s face before it could cause more damage to his already fragile heart.

Or, at least he tried to.

A worn boot stopped the door from closing all the way, and the Pokémon was quick to wedge half of its body into the crack provided.

“Wait! Wait- wait- wait- Emmet it’s me, it’s Ingo!”

Verrry impressive. It even sounded like Ingo.

Emmet didn’t dignify them with an answer, and instead pressed the entirety of his (albeit slight) weight against the door, hoping the intruder would give up in trying to worm its way into the apartment. The thrashing impostor did eventually retreat back into the hallway, and Emmet was able to close and lock the door triumphantly.

Releasing a shaky breath, the man slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Adrenaline still pumped through Emmet’s veins, and his legs felt like jelly. At least he could now breathe.

It was short-lived, however.

Emmet let out a shriek when a transparent arm suddenly passed through the door right above his head, quickly followed by the rest of the Ingo-lookalike. He could only watch in horror as It pulled itself through the solid wood as if it weren’t there, as if invading Emmet’s sanctuary was the easiest thing in the world.

Scrambling backward, Emmet realized that he didn’t even have time to grab his Xtrans to maybe call for help before the creature was upon him.

The cruel visage of his brother loomed over him, eyes glowing purple and white in the dim light.

“Emmet- Emmet, please calm down. Let me explain.”

Calm down? How could he possibly calm down when he was most definitely about to lose his life. Poor Elesa would surely be the first to find his body in the morning-

“Oh, for the love of Almighty Sinnoh, you’re not dying, Emmet.”

It could even perfectly mimic Ingo’s distinct exasperated tone of voice. How awful.

“I’m not mimicking anything. I am not a zoroark, Emmet. Or a ditto. This is real. Look-“

Emmet flinched when he felt a cold hand grasp his wrist. He chanced a look up at the impostor, and felt his heart ache at the worried look upon their face. It looked just like Ingo did when he was trying to help Emmet down from a panic attack. Concern and love showing clearly in his eyes even if his expression didn’t change...

“That’s it, Emmet.” Ingo the impostor murmured gently, cold fingers rubbing soothing circles against his knuckles. “Just breathe deep for me. You’ll be back on track soon.”

Oh. He actually was having a panic attack, wasn’t he? And this... Pokémon was doing an admittedly amazing job at helping him recover from it.

Emmet closed his eyes. For just a moment he let himself believe that it really was his dear brother comforting him. He had no idea what was in store for him at the hands of this impostor. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge for a second, right?

“You are verrry good at this.” Emmet croaked.

The impostor (Ingpostor, Emmet thought hysterically) snorted a sad little laugh.

“Of course I am. I’ve had plenty of practice. You were a very anxious kid, Emmet. Don’t you remember?”

The familiar voice was a pleasant rumble close to Emmet’s ear. He didn’t even notice Ingo? the impostor get closer. There was now an arm around his shoulders as well as the hand still rubbing circles into Emmet’s skin. It felt so nice. It had been much too long since he’d felt his brother’s soothing presence.

This had to stop before Emmet’s heart broke beyond repair.

“I am Emmet. You are not Ingo.”

He felt the arm around his shoulder tighten, but not uncomfortably so.

“I am. I swear I am, Emmet. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

Hm. That is not what Emmet expected them to say. They were putting their heart and soul into this charade. Why?

“How?” Emmet said instead.

“Like this,” that painfully familiar voice replied.

Then, the impostor began to hum.

It was a tune Emmet knew verrry well.

A Lullaby for Trains.

Their mother used to sing it to them, before she passed away. The song was dear to the two brothers, and they would often sing or hum the tune whenever they were in dire need of comfort. So many nights spent huddled together under the blankets in each other’s arms. Unsure where one twin began and the other ended. All they knew was the soothing melody and the presence of each other.

It was something they shared just between them. Not even Elesa had ever witnessed the twins at their most vulnerable.

Ingo (because it really was Ingo, wasn’t it?) wasn’t even halfway through the song before Emmet burst into tears.

He was on the other in an instant. Ingo felt cold to the touch, but Emmet didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and snuggled against his chest as if he were a small child again. Ingo in turn snaked his arms around his twin and gave him a proper hug. Despite the sudden track change, Ingo kept humming the lullaby without stuttering once.

By the time the last few notes floated through the air, Emmet’s breathing was under control, and the implications of the whole situation dawned on him.

“I am Emmet... you... you are Ingo.”

“Mhmm.” Ingo hummed. A pleasant rumble against Emmet’s ear.

The younger twin slowly extracted himself from the embrace, though only enough so that he could look up at his brother’s face.

This time, Ingo didn’t look nearly as weathered. The scars were gone, and so were the wrinkles. His hat and coat were in pristine condition. The pink garment was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the usual crisp white button-up and blue tie. The only thing that remained of the haunted-looking version of his brother he had seen at the door was the odd purple-magenta shine he could still see in Ingo’s eyes. Had he imagined his haggard appearance before?

“What… what happened to you, Ingo?” Emmet hesitantly asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Sure enough, Ingo’s frown deepened, and he averted his eyes.

“Ah… the story of my derailment is a long one, full of twists and rough tracks. Are you sure you want to hear it now? You look exhausted, Emmet.” Ingo took in Emmet’s admittedly less than pristine condition with concern.

Emmet did not like that. He felt ashamed of himself for letting his health fall to the wayside while Ingo was missing. He was quick to distract his brother from scrutinizing him further.

“Please, Ingo. I am Emmet and I need to know what happened to you. Full speed ahead, do not hold anything back. I can handle it.”

After all, he’d only been missing for a month. Aside from what turned his brother into… whatever he is now, not many other life altering things could have happened in that time, surely?

He was only gone for a month, after all.

… or not.

Ingo spun his tale like a Galvantula painstakingly weaving its web.

A dark god trapped under the thumb of a madman. His dear brother thrown headlong back in time and space by accident. Losing his memories yet always knowing that someone was missing. Becoming a warden. Meeting another displaced passenger, but without knowing anything other than his new station, did not return with them. Becoming sick and unable to recover. Ingo… dying…

Ingo had to stop his tale and help ground his younger brother before he could spiral into another panic attack.

Ingo had died.

Ingo had died alone hundreds of years and thousands of miles away from his true home.

“That can’t be right.” Emmet croaked, once again clinging desperately to Ingo. “You’re right here, not dead! I’m touching you right now!” He patted his brother’s chest for emphasis. “You couldn’t have died. You’re obviously not some ghost Pokémon!”

There was a long bout of silence. All that could be heard was Emmet’s breathing. Not Ingo’s.

Emmet’s heart dropped to his stomach. He pulled away so he could once again look at his brother, but Ingo was avoiding eye contact.

“Ingo?”

The older twin drew in a shaky breath.

“Giratina felt terribly for having caused my derailment, and prevented my spirit from fading into obscurity. They offered me a gift. An opportunity to see you again.” Ingo turned to meet Emmet’s eyes. His own shining with an unearthly glow.

Ingo took his brother’s hand in his own and slowly brought it up to his chest, where he pressed it against his sternum.

Just as Emmet feared, he felt nothing beating under flesh and bone. Only an odd sort of humming. It was almost electrical. It was most certainly not a heartbeat.

Ingo was quick to explain further.

“I am what Giratina calls a Distortion Ghost. An inhuman being made of antimatter. This was the only way I could see you again, Emmet.” Ingo’s grip on his hand tightened, and Emmet could feel him shaking, “My memories had just returned to their proper station. I had to get back to you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you never knowing what became of me. I waited centuries to see you again. I know I’m not human, I know my existence is unfathomable and terrible, but I’m still me, Emmet. I promise I’m still your brother. Please believe me.”

Emmet realized with a start that Ingo was crying when a drop of glowing magenta liquid landed on his hand where it was still pressed against his brother’s chest. He looked up at Ingo’s face, heart breaking at the terrified look in his eyes. Eyes that were leaking a luminescent substance in place of tears. Ingo was trembling, and he unconsciously pressed Emmet’s hand harder against his sternum.

Oh.

Oh no.

Ingo thought Emmet was afraid of him. He was scared that Emmet might not accept him as he was now.

That wouldn’t do.

Emmet splayed his fingers against Ingo’s chest, feeling that strange thrumming energy just beneath the surface. With a deliberating hum, he gave his brother’s chest a couple of firm pats before drawing his hand away. Ingo released the grip he had on Emmet’s wrist easily enough, staring over Emmet’s shoulder instead of directly into his eyes. His whole expression screamed trepidation.

“I am Emmet. You are Ingo.”

He said it with such finality that Ingo met his gaze again, eyes wide.

“We are a two-car train, you and I. Nothing in this world or the next will change that. I may not understand what all this-“ Emmet gave Ingo’s chest a firm poke, “entails, but know that I will be with you through it all. Because I am Emmet, and you are Ingo, and I would love you with all my heart even if you were a walking, talking patrat.”

With that blunt declaration, it was Ingo’s turn to burst into tears.

Emmet simply held his brother as he shook and sobbed against him in a reverse of their positions just a few minutes earlier.

How lonely, how daunting it must’ve been, Emmet thought sadly, to have to wander the earth for centuries in a new and terrifying state, waiting for the day he could reconnect with his other half.

Well. Hopefully now that they were coupled once again, they could help each other come to terms with their new situation. Godly interference or no, Emmet was just happy to have Ingo back.

It didn’t matter that he had no heartbeat. It didn’t matter that his eyes glowed. It didn’t matter that he cried strange purple tears. New state of being aside, this was still undoubtedly Ingo. Here in his arms again.

And that’s all Emmet could have asked for.

#wandering spirit au #submas #fanfiction #submas au #writing #ghost ingo #sapphireclaw’s art #writing counts as art right #hurt/comfort #reunion fic

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makeste · 3 years ago

Text

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

#bnha 323 #uraraka ochako #rat principal #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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goingmorry · 4 years ago

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Hello! Can you write monster trio reaction to someone flirting with their crush? Please ☀💛

[One Piece Headcanons] Monster Trio -> when someone flirts with their crush

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Tags: female reader, jealous boys Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I love me some jealous boys. There's something about it that just hits right with me. 💖

MONKEY D. LUFFY

One clueless boi.

Figures out that he has a crush on you when he explains how he feels about you to Usopp.

Doesn't quite know how to express his feelings for you in a way that you'll understand.

Interrupts the other person from flirting with you.

"Hey, I found you!"

Barging in from god knows where, Luffy interrupts the man's playful antics by sandwiching himself in the tight space between you and the stranger.

Caught off-guard, the flirtatious man begins to shove the pirate captain away from his face, resulting in Luffy's muscular torso squeezing against your much softer one. The feel of his solid body against yours is enough to cause you to blush, prompting you to create some distance by pushing him away to the side.

"Listen, pal—" the man begins, about to give the straw hat pirate a piece of his mind for violating your personal space, but not before getting rudely interrupted again.

"Who's this guy?"

"An acquaintance," you pipe up instantly in response to your captain's inquiry, omitting the piece of information where this stranger spent the last twenty minutes hitting on you.

Apologizing for your captain's childish behavior, you give him a brief rundown of who precisely the straw hat-wearing pirate is.

"I'll call him porcupine from now on," Luffy says, pleased with the nickname given to the man sitting across from you, "Since he has spiky brown hair that reminds me of a porcupine!"

"I appreciate you taking the time to ask me out," you address the stranger, grabbing hold of Luffy's stretchy arm in the process, "But I don't think this is gonna work."

Pleased with the way events were unfolding, Luffy flashes you a toothy grin to which you cock an eyebrow in response.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," he says, puckering his lips to the side. A telltale sign of an obvious lie.

You can't help but feel ridiculous for having a crush on the most insufferable pirate captain in all of existence, hoping that he, too, feels the same way as you do.

RORONOA ZORO

Only recently comes to terms with his feelings for you.

Hasn't figured out how he'll confess.

After all, romantic love is uncharted territory for him.

Won't really do anything unless he feels that you're in danger.

Pretends to be preoccupied with something else; ends up eavesdropping on your conversation with the flirtatious individual.

Inwardly though, he's more bothered than he lets on.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? I'd love to show you around town," the man says to you earnestly.

The sound of steel clashing against metal echoes loudly enough to startle people, their heads swiveling toward the origin of the noise.

In the corner of the room, the one-eyed swordsman sits upright, body tense in concentration while meticulously polishing Wado Ichimonji, one of his three signature blades.

Zoro ignores the curious looks thrown his way, focused instead on your interaction with the man in front of you.

The stranger's proposal was genuine enough. Objectively, he was undoubtedly an attractive man. Friendly and polite too from your conversations with him throughout the night.

He just... wasn't your type.

You were more interested in rougher-looking men. Someone who was strong but would never abuse their strength to harm the weak. Someone who was stoic but also had a heart of gold. Someone like—

Zoro glances in your direction, seeing the hesitation on your face in accepting the man's offer.

"Sorry, I don't think I can make it. I promised to do something with a friend," you explain, settling with a half-assed excuse for fear of confrontation.

It wasn't exactly a lie, not really. You did have plans to retrieve some supplies with a certain green-haired swordsman, though they weren't until much later in the day. But this man didn't need to know that.

Zoro wouldn't mind if you used him as an excuse.

The Pirate Hunter's shoulders relax considerably at your statement, switching his attention from you back to his current task.

Face expressing his disappointment at your rejection, the man's posture visibly deflates. "Maybe the next day then?" he adds as an afterthought.

Biting your lip guiltily, you shake your head, stray hair falling across your forehead. "Sorry, I can't. Our crew is leaving tomorrow night."

"Damn," the man says, scratching the back of his head in awkwardness before adopting a fake smile — one you choose to let slide. "I'm gonna miss you. After all, it's not every day that I get to meet such a fine young lady with the guts to traverse the terrors of the Grand Line. You take care of yourself, all right?"

"You flatter me," you giggle, cheeks tinged pink at the man's sincere compliment, "And likewise."

At the sound of your unrestrained laughter, Zoro pauses, deeply craving for the moment that he, too, becomes the recipient of your happiness.

SANJI

The person who flirts with you, his precious lady, better prepare for some ass-whooping.

Technically, Sanji can't call you his — not yet — though he has been thinking of the perfect way to confess to you.

Still, even though you're not officially together, he'll never not be feral when you're involved.

Deliberating for a few seconds before gesturing toward you, the stranger places his order with the barkeep and says, "And anything the pretty lady desires."

Pointer finger circling the rim of your shot glass in consideration, you smile at the stranger in gratitude. "In that case, I'll take another round then."

Exchanging a round of pleasantries and small talk, you and the stranger become reasonably familiar with one another.

Familiar enough to know that this man would rather whisk you away to a more private setting than converse with you under the public's watchful eye.

"I know of a better way we can spend the night together," he murmurs suggestively, low enough for you to hear despite the idle chatter in the background.

"Do you now?"

You weren't returning his flirtatious words, but you weren't exactly declining them either until you spot a tuft of blond hair in the corner of your vision, striding toward you with purpose.

When Sanji arrives, he's gushing praise and amorous advances, all for you. Ignored and uncomfortable with watching another man proclaim his underlying love and devotion to you, your newfound drinking buddy clears his throat to get your attention, earning a scornful glare from the cook.

"Who's this shitty and rude bastard?"

Unsurprising to you, Sanji doesn't even try to act civil. Your drinking buddy, however, is astonished by the cook's open hostility, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Sanji doesn't buy the man's innocent charade, one eye squinting in distrust as he presses on, "I asked you a question."

Leaving out his invitation to you for more lewd nightly activities, your drinking buddy settles for a half-truth, "Just a guy she met at the bar."

Amused with the blond's jealous streak, you decide to cut in before things escalate beyond your control, "Any particular reason you're here, Sanji?"

At the sweet lull of your voice calling his name, the cook resumes his lovestruck behavior with a hint of seriousness when he whispers the sobering news to you, "Marines were recently spotted in town. We're leaving, my dear."

Seizing the opportunity, Sanji offers his hand, palm up, for you to take, and the significance of his action is not lost to you.

You recall his strict policy for only using his hands for cooking — how, as a child, Sanji found solace from abuse by preparing meals for his sickly mother, sparking his lifelong interest in the culinary arts.

Touched, you place your hand in his, a picture-perfect rendition of a prince charming whisking away his lovely bride-to-be. You tell him exactly that, and he graces you with an amused chuckle and a soft smile.

If only people knew the real reason you and him were fleeing the scene.

"Let me be your Mr. Prince then."

Your delicate hand dwarfs in comparison to his larger one, but that doesn't stop you from interlocking your fingers together like two intimate lovers.

Neither one of you says anything else, coming to the same silent conclusion that your growing feelings for each other would have to be addressed sometime soon.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x reader #monster trio #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece writing #mywriting

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